“I’ll bet he wasn’t or you never would have gotten away with it,” growled John.

“Sure!  I’m a nervous man about Charleton,” grinned Douglas.  “Come now, Dad!  Why should you be sore at the idea?”

“Lots of reasons!  I hate a man who thinks he’s enough superior to me to tell me how to behave.  And I feel sore as a pup that my son should be bringing such a man into the Valley.  All the folks will say you are criticizing them.  I’m not going to let you do it, Douglas!”

Douglas gave a short laugh, which was echoed by Judith.

John grew red.  “My father would have thrashed me when I was a grown man if I’d laughed at him like that!”

“O well, look at the man he was!” chuckled Judith.

“Don’t you speak that way to me!” roared John.  “The children of this generation certainly are a bad lot!  But one thing you two will remember.  I’m master of this house and as long as you stay here you’ll obey me!  And you just let me hear you telling anybody, Doug, of your crazy plan and you’ll learn for the first time what I am!”

“Then you won’t help me put up my buildings?” asked Douglas.

“Not for the use of any fool preacher!” shouted his father.

Douglas lighted a cigarette and went out.  For the first time a sense of disappointment marred the beauty of the plan he had perfected with the preacher.  He realized now that he had counted on Judith’s being interested even were she antagonistic.  But she was indifferent.  He would have preferred that she be resentful like his father.  There was nothing tangible there to struggle against.  One could neither fight nor urge indifference.  Then he set his jaws.  Judith should see!  He knew whither he was going now.  He had found the fine straight line of which Peter had spoken, long ago, and he would hew to it, at whatever cost.  And Judith could not, must not fail him.  If only he knew the things she really thought!  His jaw was still set as he watched the little wild mare, now ceaselessly circling the corral fence, her face to the hills.  Judith crossed to the bars and Douglas turned away.

There still was too much frost in the ground for spring work on the ranch and it would be a month before the cattle could be driven up into the Reserve.  It was during this month that Douglas had planned to put up two cabins on his ranch, one for the church, the other for himself and Fowler to occupy.  He had accumulated a sufficient number of logs to more than supply his needs and he had counted on his father’s help in erecting the buildings.  He wondered now if Peter would help him, and old Johnny Brown.  That afternoon he rode down to the post-office.

Peter was breathlessly interested.  “You’d better keep it quiet, Doug, till the old man gets here,” he said.  “If you get old Johnny up there, don’t give him an inkling.”

Douglas nodded.  “Then I can count on you, Peter?”

The postmaster eyed the young rider keenly.  John Spencer had never been the man his son had grown to be!