The preacher nodded.  “Douglas says he’s fond of you.”

“I guess he is,” returned Johnny, condescendingly.  “I guess if the truth be deponed he’s fonder of me than he is of anybody—­excepting maybe Judith.  And Judith, she sure-gawd don’t apregate Doug like I do, even if I am a half-wit.  Judith’s awful smart but she ain’t got much sense.”

“Judith is pretty fine, Johnny!” exclaimed Douglas, with the faint glow in his blue eyes that mention of her name always brought.

“Yes, she is,” agreed Johnny.  “But she’s just like her mother was.  All fire.  And you can squench fire so it’s just ashes.  It would be a gregus good thing for the Valley if John Spencer was to break his neck.”

“Don’t say that, Johnny!” protested the preacher.  “After all, he’s one of God’s creatures.”

Johnny chuckled.  “Now, who is half-witted, huh?”

“Young Jeff back on the mail route, Johnny?” asked Douglas hastily.

“Yes.  Peter Knight, he’s awful fond of Judith.”

Douglas looked at Johnny keenly, his jaw setting as he did so.  Was there, he thought, something obvious here, or was it only the half-wit’s curiously sharp but confused intuition at work?  At any rate, he must know the truth.  He could not endure this added uneasiness.

“On second thoughts,” he said aloud, “I think I’ll not dehorn to-day.  I want to get an order off for a new saddle on to-day’s mail stage.  Johnny, one of your main jobs is to guard the sky pilot and the chapel, when I’m not here.  You’re not to let anything happen to either of them.”

“Shall I shoot on sight?” demanded the little old man.

Mr. Fowler smiled.  Douglas shook his head.  “No; let’s not get into that kind of trouble.  You don’t carry a gun anyhow, do you?”

“No,” plaintively.  “Grandma won’t let me.  But I thought you’d loan me something.”

“I haven’t got anything but my old six-shooter, which I can’t spare.  Listen, Johnny!  When you think somebody needs to be shot, you come to me and tell me about it, see?  You know I know you have a lot more self-control than these Lost Chief folks think you have.  You aren’t one of these guys that shoots first and thinks afterward.”

Johnny turned to the preacher triumphantly.  “Didn’t I tell you he was my friend?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Fowler, “and he’s mine too, and you and I must take care of him.  Lost Chief needs him.”

Old Johnny rose and solemnly offered a gnarled hand to the preacher.  Douglas laughed in an embarrassed way and went out to the corral, to saddle the Moose.

Judith was feeding the chickens as he trotted past the Spencer place.  He waved his hand but would not permit himself to stop.  He found Peter alone in his room, mending a belt.

“Well, Doug,” he said, “how does the reform movement progress?”

“We added Johnny Brown to our side this morning,” replied Douglas.  “Some line-up, I’d say!”