ly, and with swift hands he let down the canvas
curtains of the wagon, shutting her in.

"Come on, Blink," he called to the cowboy watching from behind the
trees. "Let's wrangle the teams."

"Gus an' your dad are comin' in with them now," replied Blinky joining
him and presently, when they got away from the wagon he whispered: "How
aboot it?"

"Blink, I swear it'll go through fine," declared Pan earnestly. "She
knows she's your wife--that I got her drunk and forced her into it.
She doesn't remember. I'm hoping she'll not remember anything, but
even if she does I'll fix it."

"Shore--you're Panhandle Smith--all right," returned Blinky unsteadily.

At this juncture they were called to breakfast. Pan needed only one
glance at his father, his mother and Lucy to gather that bewilderment
and worry had vanished. They knew that he knew. It seemed to Pan that
the bursting sun knew the dark world had been transformed to a shining
one. Yet he played with his happiness like a cat with a mouse.

"Mrs. Smith," begged Blinky presently, "please fix me up some breakfast
fer Louise. She's better this mawnin' an' I reckon in a day or so will
be helpin' you an' Lucy."

Pan set himself some camp tasks for the moment, and annoyed his mother
and embarrassed Lucy by plunging into duties they considered theirs.

"Mother, don't you and Lucy realize we are going to a far country?" he
queried. "We must rustle.... There's the open road. Ho for
Siccane--for sunny Arizonaland!"

When he presented himself before Louise he scarcely recognized her in
the prim, comely change of apparel. The atmosphere of the Yellow Mine
had vanished. She had managed to eat some breakfast. Blinky
discreetly found a task that took him away.

"We've a little time to talk now, Louie," said Pan. "They'll be
packing the wagons."

He led her under the cottonwoods to the pasture fence where he found a
seat for her.

"Pan, why did you do this thing?" she asked.

That was the very question he had hoped she would put first.

"Because my friend loves you and you told me you tried to keep him away
from you--that if you didn't you would like him too well," answered
Pan. "Blink had never been any good in the past. Just a wild reckless
hard-drinking cowpuncher. But his heart was big. Then you were going
straight to hell. You'd have been knifed or shot in some brawl, or
have killed yourself with drink. A few more months of the Yellow Mine
would have