ctical as she
was, a sudden conviction that he would look well in the velvet jacket
helped her resolve.

"Did they say"--he said, with his forced smile and uneasy glance--"did
they--tell you anything about me?"

"Yes," she said abstractedly, gazing at him.

"You see," he began hurriedly, "I'll tell you how it was."

"No, don't!" she said quickly. She meant it. She wanted no facts to
stand between her and this single romance of her life. "I must go and
get the things," she added, turning away, "before he gets back."

"Who's HE?" asked the man.

She was about to reply, "My husband," but without knowing why stopped
and said, "Mr. Beasley," and then ran off quickly to the house.

She found the vaquero's clothes, took some provisions, filled a flask of
whiskey in the cupboard, and ran back with them, her mouth expanded to
a vague smile, and pulsating like a schoolgirl. She even repressed
with difficulty the ejaculation "There!" as she handed them to him. He
thanked her, but with eyes fixed and fascinated by the provisions. She
understood it with a new sense of delicacy, and saying, "I'll come again
when he gets back," ran off and returned to the house, leaving him alone
to his repast.

Meantime her husband, lounging lazily along the high road, had
precipitated the catastrophe he wished to avoid. For his slouching
figure, silhouetted against the horizon on that monotonous level, had
been the only one detected by the deputy sheriff and the constable, his
companion, and they had charged down within fifty yards of him before
they discovered their mistake. They were not slow in making this an
excuse for abandoning their quest as far as Lowville: in fact, after
quitting the distraction of Mrs. Beasley's presence they had, without in
the least suspecting the actual truth, become doubtful if the fugitive
had proceeded so far. He might at that moment be snugly ensconced behind
some low wire-grass ridge, watching their own clearly defined figures,
and waiting only for the night to evade them. The Beasley house seemed a
proper place of operation in beating up the field. Ira's cold reception
of the suggestion was duly disposed of by the deputy. "I have the RIGHT,
ye know," he said, with a grim pleasantry, "to summon ye as my posse
to aid and assist me in carrying out the law; but I ain't the man to
be rough on my friends, and I reckon it will do jest as well if I
'requisition' your house." The dreadful recollection that the dep