know each other better
than in a month of casual meetings. And the grass nodded, and the winds
laughed, and the stern hills looked on, quizzically silent. If they knew
aught of a small boy with a wealth of yellow curls and white collar,
they gave no sign, and the two rode on, always seeking hopefully.

A snake buzzed sharply on a gravelly slope, and Keith, sending Beatrice
back a safe distance, took down his rope and gave battle, beating the
sinister, gray-spotted coil with the loop until it straightened and
was still. He dismounted then, and pinched off the rattles--nine,
there were, and a "button"--and gave them to Beatrice, who handled them
gingerly, and begged Keith to carry them for her. He slipped them into
his pocket, and they went on, saying little.

Back near the ranch they met Dick and Sir Redmond. They exchanged sharp
looks, and Dick shook his head.

"We haven't found him--yet. The boys are riding circle around the ranch;
they're bound to find him, some of them, if we don't."

"You had better go home," Sir Redmond told her, with a note of authority
in his voice which set Keith's teeth on edge. "You look done to death;
this is men's work."

Beatrice bit her lip, and barely glanced at him. "I'll go--when Dorman
is found. What shall we do now, Dick?"

"Go down to the house and get some hot coffee, you two. We all snatched
a bite to eat, and you need it. After that, you can look along the south
side of the coulee, if you like."

Beatrice obediently turned Rex toward home, and Keith followed. The
ranch seemed very still and lonesome. Some chickens were rolling in the
dust by the gate, and scattered, cackling indignantly, when they rode
up. Off to the left a colt whinnied wistfully in a corral. Beatrice,
riding listlessly to the house, stopped her horse with a jerk.

"I heard--where is he?"

Keith stopped Redcloud, and listened. Came a thumping noise, and a wail,
not loud, but unmistakable.

"Aunt-ie!"

Beatrice was on the ground as soon as Keith, and together they ran to
the place--the bunk-house. The thumping continued vigorously; evidently
a small boy was kicking, with all his might, upon a closed door; it was
not a new sound to the ears of Beatrice, since the arrival in America
of her young nephew. Keith flung the door wide open, upsetting the small
boy, who howled.

Beatrice swooped down upon him and gathered him so close she came near
choking him. "You darling. Oh, Dorman!"

Dorman squirmed a