“Dad, I want California Red,” she rejoined, swiftly.

“What! That wild stallion?” ejaculated Blaine, in amaze. “Why, lass, all the hoss outfits in three States have swallowed the dust of that sorrel.”

“Oh, he must be grand!” exclaimed Ina, now thrilled about what had grown out of a joke.

“Miss Ina, he is indeed a grand horse,” interposed Setter. “I saw him once, two years ago. He’s a racy, fine, clean–limbed animal, red as fire, with a mane like a flame. An’ he’s not a killer of horses, as so many stallions are. Most of the riders an’ hunters think he’d break gentle. So you get your dad to promise…. I’m witness, Blaine, mind you, of your word.”

“California Red is yours, Ina, if he can be caught,” replied her father.

“He can be, I reckon,” said Setter, meditatively. “There’s only a few outfits after him. That is they claim to be wild–horse hunters, but it’s only a blind to hide their thieving of cattle and range horses. Hall an’ his outfit are workin’ close to Silver Meadow now. Probably the only hunters really chasin’ Red are this Ide boy an’ his pards. They’re leanin’ to crooked deals, too, but I reckon Ide wants Red so bad—”

“Ide!” interrupted Ina, quickly. “Do you mean Ben Ide?”

“Yes, his name’s Ben,” replied Setter.

“You lie! Ben Ide is no horse thief,” flashed Ina, hotly.

“See here, lass, easy, easy,” interposed her father. “You’ve been away from home a long time. Much has happened to others, as well as to your folks. Bad as well as good!”

Then he addressed Setter.

“You see, Less, it’s news to Ina. She an’ Ben went to school together. They used to play here as kids. An’ I reckon it’s a kind of a blow to learn—”

“Dad, I don’t believe it,” spoke up Ina, still with heat, her voice breaking.

“It’s too bad, Miss Ina,” said Setter. “I’m sorry I was the one to hurt your feelin’s. But it does appear your boy schoolmate has gone to the bad.”

Ina turned her back upon Setter, suddenly gripped by an unfamiliar fury and pain. Surprise at these feelings had a part in her agitation.

“Dad,” she said, striving to hide it, “has any—any dishonest thing ever been traced to Ben Ide?”

“Lass, there’s been a lot of talk,” replied her father. “Soon after you left home Ben took to the hills, crazy about wild hosses. Amos Ide, if you remember, was a religious man, an’ I reckon Ben represented to him somethin’ you do to me. Anyway, Amos couldn’t break the boy—make him settle down to work. They had a final quarrel. Ben’s been gone ever since. I’ve never seen him, though others have. Mrs. Ide takes it hard, they say. I drop in to see them now an’ then. But Ben’s name ain’t never mentioned. The last two years we’ve begun to run cattle out in the valleys an’ flat along Forlorn River. Ben lives over there. An’ a good many cattle an’ hosses have—wal, disappeared. So Ben had worse said about him. But I can’t say anythin’ has ever been proved.”