"Why in blazes don't he go up to that there blamed hotel on the summit?
Why in thunder"-- But here he caught his daughter's large, freckled eyes full in his own.

He blinked feebly, his voice fell into a tone of whining entreaty.

"Now, look yer, Flip, it's playing it rather low down on the old man, this yer running in o' tramps and desarted emigrants and cast-ashore sailors and forlorn widders and ravin' lunatics, on this yer ranch.

I put it to you, Mister," he said abruptly, turning to Lance for the first time, but as if he had already taken an active part in the conversation,--"I put it as a gentleman yourself, and a fair-minded sportin' man, if this is the square thing ?" Before Lance could reply, Flip had already begun.

"That's just it! D'ye reckon, being a sportin' man and a A 1 feller, he's goin' to waltz down inter that hotel, rigged out ez he is?
D'ye reckon he's goin' to let his partners get the laugh onter him?
D'ye reckon he's goin' to show his head outer this yer ranch till he can do it square?
Not much! Go 'long.