ma." He had her tell him all
about it; of the deserted houses, the store, everything. Hence his
curiosity in Honeycutt and Brodie, and just what happened between King
and them, did not stand out alone and made no impression on Gloria. Long
ago Gratton had had from her lips what rumours had been repeated by her
father to her mother and then relayed on to her own ears. Down in San
Francisco, busied with her own youthful joys, this quest of Ben Gaynor
and Mark King had had no serious import to the girl; she had merely
chatted of it because of its colourful phases. Naturally, had she
thought a great deal of it, she would have supposed that Gratton, in
nowise concerned, was even more superficially interested than herself.

By the end of the week her guests began taking their leaves. Georgia and
Connie Grayson were off to foregather with a crowd of friends at the
Lake Tahoe "Tavern"; Evelyn returned to her mother in Oakland; Archie
departed importantly to aid his father "in the business"; Teddy went
away regretfully. Even Mr. Gratton, having lingered longest of all, went
back to his city affairs, promising to run up again when he could,
prophesying smilingly that he would see both Gloria and her mother in
town within ten days. Ben, leaving his oldest and most dependable
timber-jack to look out for the womenfolk, hastened back to the
lumber-camp, where he returned like a fish to water to his old pipe and
old clothes and roomy boots. And Gloria was plunged deep into
loneliness.

She would walk up the creek back of the house, sit by the hour near the
pool where the water came slithering down over a green and grey boulder,
watching for the water-ouzel, entertained in an absent sort of way by
his bobbings and flirtings and snatches of song. She dreamed day-dreams;
she started expectantly every time a chipmunk made a scurrying racket
in dead leaves. She made a hundred romantic conclusions to the story,
just begun, by Mark King going in the night into the mountains where
Brodie was. Her mind was rife with speculation, having ample food for
thought in all the information she had extracted from her father. Thus,
she knew of Andy Parker's death; of old Honeycutt's box; of Honeycutt's
boastings of a wild youth; of Brodie's threats and King's interference
and the old man's shotgun. If she could only _know_ what was happening
now out there beyond those silent blue barriers! Night after night she
stood at her window, swayed through many s