"But where
has--er--Buck been all this time? Where is he now?"

The girl smiled faintly. "He was here a little while ago. He and Bud are
both with the sheriff's posse. They believe the men are heading for the
mountains and have gone after them."

Mrs. Archer glanced sharply at her niece, noted a faint flush on the
girl's face, and pursed her lips.

"When are they coming back?" she asked, after a little pause.

Mary shrugged her shoulders. "Not until they catch them, I suppose."

"Which certainly won't be to-night. I'm rather surprised at Buck. It seems
to me that he ought to have stayed here to look after things, instead of
rushing off to chase outlaws."

"It wasn't his fault," defended Mary quickly. "He thought Alf and Stella
were here."

"Alf and Stella! Good gracious, child! How could he, when they left four
days ago?"

"He didn't know that. He took it for granted they were still here, and I
let him think so. They needed him to guide the posse, and I knew if I told
him, he'd insist on staying behind. After all, dear, there's nothing for
us to worry about. It'll be a bit lonesome to-night, but--"

"Worry! I'm not worrying--about myself." Mrs. Archer regarded her niece
with a curiously keen expression that seemed oddly incongruous in that
delicate fragile-looking face. "I'm not blind," she went on quickly. "I've
noticed what's been going on--the wretch! You're afraid of him, too, I can
see, and no wonder. I wish somebody had stayed--Still, we must make the
best of it. What are you going to do about the stock?"

"Feed them," said Mary laconically, quelling a little shiver that went
over her. "Let's go and do it now."

Together they walked around to the corral, where Mary forked down some hay
for the three horses, and filled the sunken water-barrel from the tank.
Already shadows were creeping up from the hollows, and the place seemed
very still and deserted.

In the kitchen the sense of silent emptiness was even greater, accustomed
as they were to the constant presence of Pedro and his wife. The two women
did not linger longer than was necessary to fill a tray with supper, which
they carried into the living-room. Here Mary closed the door, lit two
lamps, and touched a match to the wood piled up in the big fireplace.

"It'll make things more cheerful," she remarked with an attempt at
casualness which was not altogether successful. "I don't see why we
shouldn't heat some water here and make tea," she added