Dad," replied Pan, trying to calm his voice. "Tell
Mother I'm here safe and sound."

His mother heard and answered with a low cry of relief.

"Dad, come out.... Shut the door," returned Pan sharply.

Once outside his father saw the great flare of light above the town.

"Look! What's that? Must be fire!" he burst out.

"Reckon it is fire," returned Pan shortly. "Blinky shot out the lamps
in the Yellow Mine. Fire must have caught from that."

"Yellow Mine!" echoed Smith, staring in momentary stupefaction.

Pan laid a heavy hand on him. It was involuntary, an expression of a
sudden passion rising in Pan. He had a question to put that almost
stifled him.

"Lucy! ... Did she--come home?" he forced out.

"Sure. Didn't you know? She was home when I got here at noon. Son, I
bought all our outfit in no time."

"What did Lucy tell you?"

"Nothin' much," replied his father, in earnest wonder. "She was in an
awful state. Said she couldn't go because you were not dead ... poor
girl! She had hysterics. But mother got her quieted down by
suppertime."

"Where is she now?"

"In bed, I reckon. Leastways she's in her room."

"Dad, does she know? But of course she couldn't ... nor could you!"

"Son, I know aplenty," replied his father, solemnly. "Lucy told mother
when she saw you come to the stagecoach that it nearly killed her.
They believed you dead--mother an' Lucy.... She told how you threw
Hardman out of the stage on to the street. Said she almost fainted
then. But she came to in time to see you kick him--drive him off."

"Is that all she knows?" queried Pan.

"Reckon it is. I know more, but I didn't tell her," replied Smith,
lowering his voice to a whisper. "I heard about them drivin' Matthews
out to meet you.... McCormick told me you hadn't lost any friends."

"Ah-huh!" ejaculated Pan somberly. "Well, better tell Lucy at once....
Reckon that's best--the sooner the better."

"Tell Lucy what?" asked Smith anxiously.

"That she's a widow."

"It--is Dick Hardman dead--too?" gasped out Smith.

"Yes."

"My God! Son--did--did you--"

"Dad, I didn't kill him," interrupted Pan. "Dick Hardman was--was
knocked out--just before Blinky shot out the lights. Reckon it's a
good bet no one will ever know. He sure was burned up in that fire."

"_Alive_?" whispered Smith.

"He might still have been alive, but he was far gone--unconscious when
I passed him in the hall. You needn't tell Lu