Judith sniffed.  “Her master’s voice, again!  You’d better horn out of this, Douglas.”

“I haven’t any intention of keeping out,” retorted Douglas.

“You’d better,” warned Judith.  “If you think I’m going to turn down a chance for a real outfit, without hearing the argument, you’re mistaken.”

“I told you I’d help you,” insisted Douglas.

“You!  What could you buy!” jibed the girl.

“I was thinking, Jude,” said John, “why don’t you let me get you one of those regular riding suits like Eastern women wear, pants and one of those long coats.”

“Everybody would laugh at me.”  Judith’s voice was doubtful but deeply interested.  “What do you think, Peter?”

“Women’s clothes are out of my line,” replied Peter.

“Aw, don’t bribe her, Dad,” protested Douglas.

“Bribe her!” snorted John.  “For what?”

Peter gave a sardonic laugh that would have done credit to Charleton.  “I’m going home, John, before I get hauled in on a family row.  Doug, I’m pretty stiff.  Will you help me saddle Yankee?”

Douglas rose reluctantly and followed Peter into the shed where Yankee was munching hay.

“Keep your fool mouth shut, Doug,” whispered the postmaster.  “You’ve got from now to September first to sidetrack this thing.”

“If Jude passes her word to him, she’ll go.  And you know as well as I do, Peter, that most anybody would sell their soul to ride in that rodeo with a fine outfit.”

“Certainly, I know it.  But you keep out of it for a while.”

“Peter, I can’t!  When Dad gets to working on Judith, I see red.  Listen!  Just listen!”

Stillness and starlight and John’s voice rich and sweet as Peter never had heard it.

“You’re beautiful, Judith!  A beautiful woman!  Let me dress you as you ought to be dressed, give you the right kind of a horse, and the whole of the rodeo will be yours.  I tell you, girl, all you’ve got to do is to ask me for what you want.”

“Do other folks call me beautiful, Dad?” Judith’s voice was breathless.

“Why do you call me Dad?  I’m not your father, thank God!”

Douglas strode out of the shed and up to the fence, followed by Peter on Yankee.

“I don’t want to quarrel with you, Dad—­” he began, furiously.

“Then don’t start something you can’t see the finish of,” interrupted Judith.  “Let me run my own affairs, Doug.”

“That’s sound advice.”  John’s voice was cool.  “I don’t want to quarrel with you either.  But I’m still master of my own ranch and, by God, I’ll knock you down if you interfere in this.”

Peter leaned over and put his hand on Douglas’ shoulder.

“Don’t be a fool, Doug!  Go off and think before you talk.”

For a moment there was silence.  Douglas stood tense under Peter’s kindly hand, his face turned toward the beautiful shadow of Falkner’s Peak.  The heavens, deep purple and glorious with stars, were very near.  Suddenly Douglas turned on his heel and clanked into the house, where he threw himself down on his bed.