ow how news gets itself all
twisted up travelling half a mile. I _heard_ he got hurt at old Loony
Honeycutt's last night. Right bad hurt, they said. But I was just asking
you----"

"Where is he?" she cut in excitedly. "Now?"

"Didn't you just come out of the hotel?" He looked more puzzled than
ever. "Wasn't he there?"

"How do I know? Was he taken there?"

He nodded. "Leastways I heard he was. Last night----"

Gloria did not wait for more. She turned and ran back to the building
she had quitted only a moment ago, bursting into the front room,
demanding earnestly and in words that came with a rush:

"Is my father here? Is he hurt?"

"Your father? Hurt----Say, you ain't Ben Gaynor's daughter, are you?"

"Yes, yes. And papa----"

"They had a doctor over from Placerville last night. He's coming back
again this morning some time."

"Take me to papa. Quick!" said Gloria imperiously. "You should have told
me the minute I came."

"But I didn't know----"

"Quick!" repeated Gloria.

He showed her to the room, only three doors beyond her own. He moved to
open the door but Gloria's hand was first to the knob; she opened and
went in, closing the door softly. She was trembling, frightened,
dreading, oppressed by fear of what might be. Though both windows were
open the shades were drawn, the light was dim. She made out a man's form
on the bed; there was a white bandage about his head. He stirred and
turned half over.

"Papa!" cried Gloria, her voice catching.

She ran to him and went down on her knees at his bedside, her two hands
finding his upon the coverlet, clasping them tight. He looked at her in
wonderment; Gloria misread the look in his eyes and for a terrible
moment thought that he was dying.

"Gloria!" he said in amazement. "Here----"

"Oh, papa!"

To Ben Gaynor this unannounced coming of his daughter partook of the
nature of an apparition and of a miracle. At first he would not believe
his senses, fearing that he had just gone off his head. Then it was that
the look in his eyes frightened her. But the hands gripping his were
flesh-and-blood hands, and, besides, Ben Gaynor was a very
matter-of-fact man, little given to prolonged fanciful ideas, even after
a night of pain and mental distress.

"By the Lord, we'll nail their hides to our barn door yet!" were his
first words of greeting. He hitched himself up against his pillows.

"What in the world happened?" Gloria asked after a sigh of relief.

"H