"I'll tell you once more," said Ranse, slowly. "As I am a
Truesdell and as you are my father, I'll never marry a Curtis."
"Good boy," said old "Kiowa." "You'd better go get some
supper."
Ranse went to the kitchen at the rear of the house. Pedro, the
Mexican cook, sprang up to bring the food he was keeping warm in
the stove.
"Just a cup of coffee, Pedro," he said, and drank it standing.
And then:
"There's a tramp on a cot in the wagon-shed. Take him something
to eat. Better make it enough for two."
Ranse walked out toward the jacals. A boy came
running.
"Manuel, can you catch Vaminos, in the little pasture, for
me?"
"Why not, senor? I saw him near the puerta but two
hours past. He bears a drag-rope."
"Get him and saddle him as quick as you can."
"Prontito, senor."
Soon, m
