dden when and where
the owner chooses. Lite turned and went over to it, caught it by the
dragging bridle-reins, and led it into an empty stall. He did not know
whether he ought to unsaddle it or leave it as it was; but on second
thought, he loosened the cinch in kindness to the animal, and took off
its bridle, so that it could eat without being hampered by the bit.
Lite was too thorough a horseman not to be thoughtful of an animal's
comfort.

He led his own horse out, and then he stopped abruptly. For Pard stood
in front of the kitchen door, and Jean was untying a package or two
from the saddle. He opened his mouth to call to her; he started
forward; but he was too late to prevent what happened. Before his
throat had made a sound, Jean turned with the packages in the hollow of
her arm and stepped upon the platform with that springy haste of
movement which belongs to health and youth and happiness; and before he
had taken more than the first step away from his horse, she had opened
the kitchen door.

Lite ran, then. He did not call to her. What was the use? She had
seen. She had dropped her packages, and turned and ran to meet him,
and caught him by the arm in a panic of horror. Lite patted her hand
awkwardly, not knowing what he ought to say.

"What made you go in there?" came of its own accord from his lips.
"That's no place for a girl."

"It's Johnny Croft!" she gasped just above her breath. "How--did it
happen, Lite?"

"I don't know," said Lite slowly, looking down and still patting her
hand. "Your father and I have both been gone all day. I just got back
a few minutes ago and found out about it." His tone, his manner and
his words impressed upon Jean the point he wanted her to get,--that her
father had not yet returned, and so knew nothing of the crime.

He led her back to where Pard stood, and told her to get on. Without
asking him why, Jean obeyed him, with a shudder when her wide eyes
strayed fascinated to the open door and to what lay just within. Lite
went up and pulled the door shut, and then, walking beside her with an
arm over Pard's neck, he led the way down to the stable, and mounted
Ranger.

"You can't stay here," he explained, when she looked at him
inquiringly. "Do you want to go over and stay at Carl's, or would you
rather go back to town?" He rode down toward the gate, and Jean kept
beside him.

"I'm going to stay with dad," she told him shakily. "If he stays,
I'll--I'll s