e flour-sack from her with all her strength, hoping it would drop out of
sight in the sage-brush. It was caught in mid-air by a tall figure at the
wagon-side.

"Thank you, madam," said a hollow voice, "Good-night."

It was all done so quickly and neatly that Meeteetse and the Indian woman
were still in the bottom of the wagon when two dark figures clattered past
and vanishing hoof-beats told them the thieves were on their way to town.

"Well, sir!" Meeteetse found his feet, also his tongue, at last.

"Well, sir!" He adjusted the seat.

"Well, sir!" He picked up the reins and clucked to the horses.

"Well, sir! I know 'em. Them's the fellers that held up the Great
Northern!"

The Indian woman said not a word. Her heart was filled with despair. What
would Smith say? was her thought. What would he do? She felt intuitively
how great would be his disappointment. How could she tell him?

She drew the blanket tighter about her shoulders and across her face,
crouching on the seat like a culprit.

The ranch-house was dark when they drove into the yard, for which she was
thankful. She left Meeteetse to unharness, and, without striking a light
or speaking to Susie, crept between her blankets like a frightened child.

Smith, in his dreams, had heard the rumble of the wagon as it crossed the
ford, and he awoke the next morning with a sensation of pleasurable
anticipation. In his mind's eye, he saw the banknotes in a heap before
him. There were all kinds in the picture--greasy ones, crisp ones,
tattered bills pasted together with white strips of paper. He rather liked
these best, because the care with which they had been preserved conveyed
an idea of value. They had been treasured, coveted by others, counted
often.

Eager, animated, his eyes bright, his lips curving in a smile, Smith
hurried into his clothes and to the ranch-house, to seek the Indian woman.
He heard her heavy step as she crossed the floor of the living-room, and
he waited outside the door.

"Prairie Flower!" he whispered as she stood before him.

She avoided his eyes, and her fingers fumbled nervously with the buckle of
her wide belt.

"Could you get it?"

"Most of it."

"Where is it?" His eyes gleamed with the light of avarice.

She drew in her breath hard.

"It was stole."

His face went blood-red; the cords of his neck swelled as if he were
straining at a weight. She shrank from the snarling ferocity of his
mouth.

"You lie!" The voice wa