ve a
drink, Pan."

"We're not drinking, cowboy," retorted Pan.

"Ain't we? Excuse me. Shore I figgered a good stiff drink would help
some. I tell you I've begun to get hunches."

"What kind?"

"No kind at all. Just feel that all's not goin' the way we hope. But
it's your fault. It's the look you got. I'd hate to see you hurt
deep, pard."

They passed the wagon shop where Pan's father had been employed, then a
vacant lot on one side of the street and framed tents on the other.
Presently they could see down the whole of Main Street. It presented
the usual morning atmosphere and color, though Pan fancied there was
more activity than usual. That might have been owing to the fact that
both the incoming and outgoing stages were visible far up at the end of
the street.

Pan strained his eyes at people near and far, seeking first some sign
of Lucy, and secondly someone he could interrogate. Soon he would
reach the first store. But before he got there he saw his mother
emerge, drag Bobby, who evidently wanted to stay. Then Alice followed.
Both she and her mother were carrying bundles. Pan's heart made ready
for a second and greater leap--in anticipation of Lucy's appearance.
But she did not come.

"Hello, heah's your folks, pard, figgerin' from looks," said Blinky.
"What a cute kid! ... Look there!"

Pan, striding ahead of Blinky saw his mother turn white and reel as if
about to faint. Pan got to her in time.

"Mother! Why, Mother," he cried, in mingled gladness and distress.
"It's me. I'm all right. What'd you think? ... Hello, Bobby, old
dirty face... Alice, don't stare at me. I'm here in the flesh."

His mother clung to him with hands like steel. Her face and eyes were
both terrible and wonderful to see. "Pan! Pan! You're alive? Oh,
thank God! They told us you'd been shot."

"Me? Well, I guess not. I'm better than ever, and full of good news,"
went on Pan hurriedly. "Brace up, Mother. People are looking.
There... Dad is out home. We've got a lot to do. Where's Lucy?"

"Oh, God--my son, my son!" cried Mrs. Smith, her eyes rolling.

"_Hush_!" burst out Pan, with a shock as if a blade had pierced his
heart. He shook her not gently. "_Where_ is Lucy?"

His mother seemed impelled by his spirit, and she wheeled to point up
the street.

"Lucy! There--in that stage--leaving Marco!"

"For God's--sake!" gasped Pan. "What's this? Lucy! Where's she
going?"

"Ask her yourself