Johnny looked at Douglas in embarrassment, but Douglas nodded and his old guard sat down beside him on the bunk with a contented sigh.

“’I am the true vine and my father is the husband-man.—­As the Father hath loved me so have I loved you:  continue ye in my love.—­This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you.—­Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’” Fowler closed the book and bowed his head over it.  “O God,” he prayed, “give us patience and kindness and understanding.  Amen.”

He rose then and Douglas, vaguely comforted by the sympathy of the two old men, went to bed and to sleep.  It had been a day of such stress as even his young years of mental conflicts had seldom endured.

The next day, when Douglas went down to the Spencer ranch to borrow the paraphernalia for dehorning, his father beckoned him mysteriously into the cowshed.  John had been surly for six months and Douglas was surprised to hear the note of gratification in his voice.

“What have you been doing to Charleton, Doug?”

“What does he say I’ve been doing?” asked Douglas, picking the snow out of his spurs.

“He says you knocked him down.  He came in here last night breathing fire.”

“Did he say why I knocked him down?”

“Yes.  Because he wouldn’t let your dog rob his traps.”

“Prince got after a wolverine in his or Scott’s traps and Charleton shot the old pup.  He’d better be thankful I didn’t boot him all the way home.”

Douglas’ face was growing white again.  John looked at his tall son with a mixture of admiration and bewilderment in his eyes.

“By the Great Sitting Bull, Doug, I can’t understand you!  Here you go for six months making a blank sissy of yourself over a sky pilot and then you give the most dangerous man in the Valley the gol-dingest mauling and beating he ever had in his life!  Why, even I won’t go up against Charleton.  He’s a bad man!”

“He’s a bag of wind!” said Douglas contemptuously.  “I found that out years ago when his boy was born.  Does Jude know?”

“No; she was asleep and he stayed in the kitchen with me and washed up.  But don’t think you’ve finished with him.  He’s a mean man, Douglas.”

“Yes, he’s mean enough.  On the other hand, Charleton knows I’ve got his number and he’ll let me alone.  I’m not worrying about him.  That guy can’t even keep his temper.  Loan me the tar-pot, will you, and the searing-iron.”

John suddenly laughed.  Douglas grinned faintly, then said, “I know now how Jude felt when you shot that little old Swift horse.”

“I suppose if you’d been big enough, you’d have treated me as you did Charleton,” said John cheerfully.

“I sure would have tried to,” replied Douglas.  “Where’s Jude?”

“Working on the little wild mare in the corral.”

Douglas nodded to his father and went in search of Judith.  She nodded gaily from the saddle.