yesterday and last night."

"Ah, yesterday! That was something like! But it was yesterday, and
to-day the deadly dullness is enough to turn the blood in one's veins
to mud!"

"Then everything is quiet down-town? There is no more danger of
trouble?"

"There is no danger of anything, except that every blessed person in
the place may lie down in his tracks and fall into a hundred years'
sleep. I assure you, Miss Delarue, the town is as peaceful as the
plain out yonder, and birds in their little nests are not nearly so
quiet as are the valiant warriors of Las Plumas."

"Oh, that is good! I am very glad, on my father's account. He is so
aggressive in his opinions that whenever there is any excitement of
this kind I am anxious about him until the trouble is over." She
hesitated a moment, her lips trembling on the verge of further speech,
and he waited for her to go on. "Mr. Wellesly," she said, a note of
uncertainty sounding in her voice, "you are not prejudiced by the
political feeling which colors people's opinions here. I wish you
would tell me what you think about this matter. Do you believe Mr.
Mead has killed Will Whittaker?"

Wellesly noted her earnest expression and the intentness of her voice
and pose, and he decided at once that this was not mere curiosity. He
paused a moment, looking thoughtful. His keen, brilliant eyes were
bent on her face.

"It's a hard question you've asked me, Miss Delarue. One does not like
to decide against a man in such serious accusations unless he can be
sure. The evidence against Emerson Mead, in this murder case, is all
circumstantial, it is true, but, at least to me, it is strongly
convincing." His eyes were almost closed, only a strip of brilliant
gray light showing between their lids, but he was watching her
narrowly. "We know that he has been stealing cattle from us. We have
found many bearing our brand among his herds. Our men have even caught
him driving them into his own bands. In fact, there is no doubt about
this matter. Emerson Mead is a cattle thief of the wiliest sort." He
paused a moment, noting the horrified expression on her downcast face.
But she did not speak, and he went on:

"About this murder, if murder it is, of course nobody knows anything
with certainty. But in my judgment there is only one tenable theory of
Will Whittaker's disappearance, and that is, that he was murdered and
his body hidden. Mead is the only enemy he was known to have, and Mead
had th