"What do you mean by sending such a message to me?"
"I sent no message to you," said Ted quietly. "I didn't even know your
name until your striker mentioned it to me a few minutes ago."
Had Ted looked at the young lady at the other end of the veranda he
would have seen an irrepressible smile flit across her features, as she
looked at her father.
"That was a facer for dad," she whispered to Lieutenant Barrows, who
frowned. "The idea of telling papa that he had never heard of him, the
great warrior and Indian fighter, Colonel Croffut."
The colonel stared at Ted with a sort of amazement for a moment, and
grunted:
"Well, you're likely to know a great deal more about me before we're
through with one another."
"I hope so," said Ted pleasantly. "But what is your business with me?"
"I'll speak of it when I come to it," said the old soldier.
"Then you'll have to be quick about it, for I've been in the saddle
continuously for six weeks, and I'm tired. Besides, I've got a day's
work to do before I turn in to-night."
There was something crisp and business-like in Ted's speech, and not at
all impertinent, that caused the colonel to look at him again.
"What's this I hear about your refusal to accede to our just demand that
the cattle intended to fill your contract be turned into our pasture?"
asked the colonel sharply.
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