happened to run across him."

"Well, in spite of the high authority, I don't believe it," said she
with undisturbed conviction.

For a little while Bentley walked on beside her in silence. When he
spoke there was the softness of reverence in his voice.

"If I had the faith of a good woman in such measure as that," said he,
"I'd think I was next door to heaven!"

"It is the being who inspires faith that is more admirable than the
faith itself, it seems to me," she rejoined. "Faith has lived in many a
guilty heart--faith in somebody, something."

"Yes," he agreed gently. And then, after a little while: "Yes."

"Will you be returning to the East soon?" she asked.

"I've been thinking some of going on to Meander to get a fuller
impression of this country and see how the boy is getting on," he
replied.

"Then go with me," she invited.

"I wondered if you had faith enough in me to ask me," he laughed.

There was an extra stage out the next morning, owing to the movement
toward Meander of people who must file on their claims within the next
ten days. Smith was to drive it. He was in the office when they
arrived.

"I think I'll assume the responsibility of taking the doctor's two bags
with me," said Bentley.

She agreed that there was little use in leaving them behind. Walker was
to go to his ranch the next day; the others would break camp the
following morning. There would be nobody to leave his possessions in
charge of, except the hotel-keeper, who had a notoriously short memory,
and who was very likely to forget all about it, even if the doctor ever
returned.

Bentley made arrangements for the transportation of that much excess
baggage, therefore. The cost was reminiscent of freight charges in the
days of the Santa Fe Trail.

"We'll leave word for him at the hotel-office," said he.

As they came out of the stage-office a man was mounting a horse before
the stable door, a group of stage employees around him. He galloped off
with a flourish. The man who had caparisoned his horse stood looking
after him as he disappeared in the night.

"That feller's in a hurry--he couldn't wait for the stage in the
morning," said Smith. "He's ridin' relay to Meander tonight on our
horses, and he'll be there long before we start. He's the Governor's
son."

CHAPTER IX

DOUBLE CROOKEDNESS

Comanche was drying up like a leaky pail. There remained only the dregs
of the thronging thousands who had chopped its street