ago. I expect he is out to the stable."

Belle sat down. The nervous strain of the past hours was telling on her.
She felt unstrung and vaguely depressed.

The doctor and Mary Bylow went to the stable. The empty stall, with no
sign of saddle, bridle, or preacher, were enough. They returned to the
house.

In answer to Belle's look the doctor made a gesture, and said simply:

"Gone."

"Where?"

The doctor shook his head and pointed northward.

"Please tell me all about it, Mrs. Bylow," said Belle.

"There is times to tell lies," said Mary naively, "but this ain't. I'll
tell you the whole truth," and she did in a quivering voice, while tears
ran from her eyes.

"Trapped, trapped," was Belle's only comment. "Where do you suppose he
went?"

"Not to Cedar Mountain," said Carson, "that's sure. No one passed us."

Charlie Bylow, coming into the cabin, heard the doctor's last comment.

"He was heading due north and going hard when last we saw him," was his
contribution.

"Dr. Carson, he's headed for Deadwood, and I'm going after him to bring
him back." Belle stood up with sudden decision. The need for action once
more present, all her strength responded.

The doctor shook his head. "I don't think you should go. You know what
all the town would say."

"You are going with me," was the answer.

"When?"

"Right now."

"Better go home first."

"And have a fight with my folks? No, no! We go now. I have an aunt in
Deadwood, you know!"

"It's forty-five miles, and we can't get there till midnight, even if my
horse holds out."

"We may overtake him before that," said Belle, though she knew quite
well they would not, for Hartigan would ride like a madman.

It had not been difficult to enlist Carson's sympathies. A sincere
friendship had sprung up between the boyish preacher and himself and
their total dissimilarity had made them congenial. Carson was amused in
his quiet way to note how exactly Belle was moving as he thought best
and surest, so now he merely added:

"Deadwood it is," and with a farewell word to the Bylows they were off.

CHAPTER XX

The Memorable Trip to Deadwood

It was a long, hard journey, and it was one o'clock in the morning
before they reached Deadwood. Every public house that could get a
license to sell liquor announced itself as a "hotel." Those few that
could not, made a virtue of their failure and flaunted a sign,
"Temperance House." The "wet houses" were on the main gu