ow this didn't
altogether fit. It assumed that Buck would take his dismissal quietly
without attempting a personal appeal to the ranch-owner; also it took no
account of Bud Jessup. By this time Tex must realize that there had been
more or less intimate communication between the two, and Bud was not the
sort to stand by quietly and see his friend turned out without stirring
vehemently in his behalf.

Considering all this, Buck could not see that there was much to fear in
Lynch's present manoeuvering; and it was something of a shock to find Bud
absent from the supper-table.

"Gone to Paloma to fetch those wagon-bolts," explained Tex, who had come
in about an hour ahead of the others, in answer to Peters' query. "They'd
ought to of come in by mail yesterday or the day before, an' we need 'em
bad. He'll get supper in town an' be back before dark."

Somewhat thoughtful, Buck accompanied the others to the bunk-house, where
he was cordially invited to join the evening game of draw, but declined on
the plea of having a couple of letters to write. It was a subterfuge, of
course; he had nobody to write to. But in his mind had risen a strong
preference for being in a position where he could overlook the whole
group, rather than be seated in their very midst.

There had come to him a sudden, vivid conviction that he had
underestimated the foreman's resources and his own possible danger. As he
sat there mechanically scribbling random sentences, it was brought home to
him for the first time how unpleasantly alone he was. Save for a helpless
girl and an even more helpless old woman, there wasn't a soul within a
dozen miles on whom he could count for help in an emergency. Of course
when Bud returned--

But Bud didn't return. Nine o'clock brought no sign of him. Another hour
passed and still he failed to show up. It began to look very much as if
the youngster had met with some accident or was being purposely kept out
of the way.

When the men finished their game and began to turn in, Stratton
reluctantly followed their example. As long as there was any light he felt
perfectly able to take care of himself. It was the darkness he
feared--that inky, suffocating darkness which masks everything like a
pall. He dreaded, too, the increased chances bed would bring of yielding
for a single fatal instant to treacherous sleep; but he couldn't well sit
up all night, so he undressed leisurely with the rest and stretched his
long length betwee