“Hurry—what’d Ina do?” burst out Ben.

“Huh! She just slapped the stuffin’s out of him an’ said she’d never speak to him again. He went home red–headed. An’ dad had to hustle off to Klamath to pay money he’d borrowed from old McAdam. I heard dad tell Ina that an’ a lot of other guff. Ina swore she’d go to work waitin’ on table in the Hammell hotel before she’d marry McAdam. That’s what kind of a sister I got.”

“You—don’t—say!” replied Ben, in smothered voice, bending over Marvie’s tackle. But this attempt to hide his ridiculous state of sudden ecstasy availed him nothing.

“Ben, you’re fond of Ina,” went on Marvie, seriously now, with the accent of a big–brother guardian.

Looking up, Ben realized that the truth was best—whatever it cost him.

“Boy, I should smile,” he replied, but he did not smile.

“Had a hunch you was,” continued Marvie, with satisfaction. “Got it that night we met Hettie.”

“Yes?” inquired Ben, encouragingly. He wanted to hug the lad. How Marvie reminded him of Ina when she was a youngster.

“Ben, does she know you’re fond of her?”

“Why, Marvie—I’m not sure—reckon she doesn’t,” answered Ben, helplessly.

“It’d be a darn good thing for her to know, Ben,” went on the lad, earnestly. “Ina has a rotten time of it, tryin’ to brighten mother up an’ keepin’ dad from drivin’ her. Say, them Sundays when McAdam was with us all day—gee! they were tough. But he’s gone now.”

“Marvie, you’re old enough to know that I can’t go to your sister and—and tell her such a thing,” said Ben, striving to be clear. “My dad threw me out. People believe I deserved it—that I’m a no–good horse hunter—and worse.”

“Scat!” exploded Marvie, in fine scorn. “Ina has heard all that. I’ll bet it’s only made her like you more.”

“Ah, son, you must be wrong,” murmured Ben, hanging his head.

“If I’m wrong she acts darn funny. But I’ve a hunch I’m right,” returned Marvie, stoutly. “Would Ina send you messages if she didn’t like you?”

“Messages! By whom?” cried Ben, jerking up quickly.

“By nobody but me, Ben Ide,” declared Marvie, triumphantly.

“You little son–of–a–gun! You’ve been here hours without telling me? Hurry, or I’ll be Injun giver and take back your wild horse.”

“Huh! Thought that would fetch you,” said the lad, with a grin. “Well, I’m sorry I got your hopes way up, ’cause Ina didn’t really give me much to tell you. She sent her regards——”

“Yes?” cried Ben, eagerly, as Marvie paused to watch impressions.

“An’ was glad about your wild–horse catch.”

“Yes?” not so eagerly or hopefully.

“An’ about your fight with Setter an’ the way he looked when he got back she said to tell you——”

Ben could scarcely keep from choking this tantalizing young rascal.

“What?” he demanded.

“She was tickled to death!”

Ben drew a deep breath and glared suspiciously at Marvie. Could this clear–eyed boy be guilty of terrible duplicity?