asons and then we will have a hearty laugh together."

Mary Lackington set about packing her effects, and all the time her
thoughts were of her lonely friend in the hill-side cabin. In this hour
of her departure she felt herself drawn even more strangely and tenderly
toward that weird, incomprehensible creature; such a tugging at her heart
the girl had never experienced till now. What would Miss Woppit
say--what would she think? The thought of going away with never so much
as a good-by struck Mary Lackington as being a wanton piece of
heartlessness. But she would write to Miss Woppit as soon as ever she
reached home--she would write a letter that would banish every suspicion
of unfeelingness.

Then, too, Mary thought of Hoover; what would the big, honest fellow
think, to find himself deserted in this emergency without a word of
warning? Altogether it was very dreadful. But Mary Lackington was a
daughter who did her father's bidding trustingly.

Three-fingered Hoover went with Jim Woppit that day. There were thirteen
in the posse--fatal number--mounted on sturdy bronchos and armed to the
teeth. They knew their business and they went gayly on their way.
Around the mountain and over the Tin Cup path they galloped, a good seven
miles, I 'll dare swear; and now at last they met up with the main road,
and at Jim Woppit's command they drew in under the trees to await the
approach of the party in the stage.

Meanwhile in camp the comedy was drawing to a close. Bill Merridew drove
stage that day; he was Steve Barclay's pardner--pretty near the only man
in camp that stood out for Steve when he was suspicioned of being in some
sort of cahoots with the robbers. Steve Barclay's arm was still useless
and Bill was reckoned the next best horseman in the world.

The stage drew up in front of the Mears House. Perhaps half a dozen
passengers were in waiting and the usual bevy of idlers was there to
watch the departure. Great was the astonishment when Sir Charles and
Mary Lackington appeared and stepped into the coach. Everybody knew Sir
Charles and his daughter, and, as I have told you, it had been given out
that they were not to leave the camp until the morrow. Forthwith there
passed around mysterious whisperings as to the cause of Sir Charles'
sudden departure.

It must have been a whim on Barber Sam's part. At any rate, he issued
just then from Casey's restaurant across the way, jaunty and chipper as
ever. He saw