her perplexity and anxiety came the news that Jed on
his way home had been thrown from his horse, which was a young and
vicious one, and had broken his leg. Jed was to act the part of Nick
Bottom that evening, and he did it well! Now what in the world was she
to do? If only Gardley would come!

Just at this moment Forsythe arrived.

"Oh, it is you, Mr. Forsythe!" And her tone showed plainly her
disappointment. "Haven't you seen Mr. Gardley to-day? I don't know what
I shall do without him."

"I certainly have seen Gardley," said Forsythe, a spice of
vindictiveness and satisfaction in his tone. "I saw him not two hours
ago, drunk as a fish, out at a place called Old Ouida's Cabin, as I was
passing. He's in for a regular spree. You'll not see him for several
days, I fancy. He's utterly helpless for the present, and out of the
question. What is there I can do for you? Present your request. It's
yours--to the half of my kingdom."

Margaret's heart grew cold as ice and then like fire. Her blood seemed
to stop utterly and then to go pounding through her veins in leaps and
torrents. Her eyes grew dark, and things swam before her. She reached
out to a desk and caught at it for support, and her white face looked at
him a moment as if she had not heard. But when in a second she spoke,
she said, quite steadily:

"I thank you, Mr. Forsythe; there is nothing just at present--or, yes,
there is, if you wouldn't mind helping Timothy put up those curtains.
Now, I think I'll go home and rest a few minutes; I am very tired."

It wasn't exactly the job Forsythe coveted, to stay in the school-house
and fuss over those curtains; but she made him do it, then disappeared,
and he didn't like the memory of her white face. He hadn't thought she
would take it that way. He had expected to have her exclaim with horror
and disgust. He watched her out of the door, and then turned impatiently
to the waiting Timothy.

Margaret went outside the school-house to call Bud, who had been sent to
gather sage-brush for filling in the background, but Bud was already out
of sight far on the trail toward the camp on Forsythe's horse, riding
for dear life. Bud had come near to the school-house door with his
armful of sage-brush just in time to hear Forsythe's flippant speech
about Gardley and see Margaret's white face. Bud had gone for help!

But Margaret did not go home to rest. She did not even get half-way
home. When she had gone a very short distance o