Mason pulled a splinter from a corral rail and began to snap off little bits with his fingers.  “Kate will go straight up in the air with me if she knows you’re here and won’t come to the house, though,” he considered uneasily.  “She’s kept a big package of gratitude tucked away with your name on it, ever since that Alaska deal.  And lemme tell you, Ford, when a woman as good as Kate goes and gets grateful to a man—­gosh!  Had your dinner?”

“Not lately, I haven’t,” Ford declared.  “I kinda remember eating, some time in the past; it was a long time ago, though.”

Mason laughed and tagged the answer as being the natural exaggeration of a hungry man.  “Well, come along and eat, then—­if you haven’t forgotten how to make your jaws go.  I’ve got Mose Freeman cooking for me; you know Mose, don’t you?  Hired him the day after the Fourth; the Mitten outfit fired him for getting soused and trying to clean out the camp, and I nabbed him before they had time to forgive him.  Way they had of disciplining him—­when he’d go on a big tear they’d fire him for a few days and then take him back.  But they can’t git him now—­not if I can help it.  A better cook never throwed dishwater over a guy-rope than that same old Mose, but—­” He stopped and looked at Ford hesitantly.  “Say!  I hate like the deuce to tie a string on you as soon as you hit the ranch, Ford, but—­if you’ve got anything along, you won’t spring it on Mose, will you?  A fellow’s got to watch him pretty close, or—­”

“I haven’t got a drop.”  Ford’s tone was reprehensibly regretful.

“You do look as if you’d put it all under your belt,” Mason retorted dryly.  “Left anything behind?”

“Some spoiled beauties, and a nice new jail that was built by my admiring townspeople, with my name carved over the door.  I didn’t stay for the dedication services.  Sunset was getting all fussed up over me and I thought I’d give them a chance to settle their nerves; loss of sleep sure plays hell with folks when their nerves are getting frazzly.”  He smiled disarmingly at Mason.

“I’d kinda lost track of you, Ches, till I got your letter.  I’ve been traveling pretty swift, and that’s no lie.  I meant to write, but—­you know how a man gets to putting things off.  And then I took a notion to ride over this way, and sample your grub for a day or so, and abuse you a little to your face, you old highbinder!”

“Sure.  I’ve been kinda looking for you, too.  But—­I wish you hadn’t quite so big an assortment of battle-signs, Ford.  Kate’s got ideals and prejudices—­and she don’t know all your little personal traits.  She’s heard a lot about you, of course.  We was married right after we came outa the North, you know, and of course—­Well, you know how a woman sops up adventure stories; and seeing you was the star performer—­”

“And that’s a lie,” Ford put in modestly, albeit a trifle bluntly.

“No, it ain’t.  She got the truth.  And she’s so darned grateful,” he added lugubriously, “that I don’t know how to square your record with that face!  Unless we can rig up some yarn about a holdup—­” He paused just outside the mess-house door and eyed Ford questioningly.  “We might—­”