ly. "You don't know King, if you're
counting on that."

I came near asking how he expected to get through, then; when I remembered
my own spectacular flight, on a certain occasion, I felt that Frosty was
calmly disowning our only hope.

We rode quietly into the mouth of King's Highway, our horses stepping
softly in the deep sand of the trail as if they, too, realized the
exigencies of the situation. We crossed the little stream that is the
first baby beginning of Honey Creek--which flows through our ranch--with
scarce a splash to betray our passing, and stopped before the closed gate.
Frosty got down to swing it open, and his fingers touched a padlock doing
business with bulldog pertinacity. Clearly, King was minded to protect
himself from unwelcome evening callers.

"We'll have to take down the wires," Frosty murmured, coming back to where
I waited. "Got your gun handy? Yuh might need it before long." Frosty was
not warlike by nature, and when he advised having a gun handy I knew the
situation to be critical.

We took down a panel of fence without interruption or sign of life at the
house, not more than fifty yards away; Frosty whispered that they were
probably at supper, and that it was our best time. I was foolish enough to
regret going by without chance of a word with Beryl, great as was my
haste. I had not seen her since that day Frosty and I had ridden into
their picnic--though I made efforts enough, the Lord knows--and I was not
at all happy over my many failures.

Whether it was good luck or bad, I saw her rise up from a hammock on the
porch as we went by--for, as I said before, King's house was much closer
to the trail than was decent; I could have leaned from the saddle and
touched her with my quirt.

"Mr. Carleton"--I was fool enough to gloat over her instant recognition,
in the dark like that--"what are you doing here--at this hour? Don't you
know the risk? And your promise--" She spoke in an undertone, as if she
were afraid of being overheard--which I don't doubt she was.

But if she had been a Delilah she couldn't have betrayed me more
completely. Frosty motioned imperatively for me to go on, but I had pulled
up at her first word, and there I stood, waiting for her to finish, that
I might explain that I had not lightly broken my promise; that I was
compelled to cut off that extra sixty miles which would have made me,
perhaps, too late. But I didn't tell her anything; there wasn't time.
Frosty, wait