tsam of unclaimed mail, and brought him a
square, blue linen envelope--distinctly a lady's letter.

Peter took it with rather a forced air of magnanimity, as if in neglecting
to present it to him sooner she drew heavily on his reserve of patience.
Tearing open the envelope, he read it voraciously, read it to the
exclusion of his surroundings, the world at large, and--Judith. He strode
up and down the floor two or three times, and called to Leander, who was
passing:

"Dax, I must have that gray mare of yours right away." He went in the
direction of the stable, without a second glance at the postmistress, and
presently they saw him galloping off in the opposite direction from which
he had come. Mrs. Dax came in with a tray on which were a pot of coffee
and sundry substantial delicacies.

"Where's he gone?" she demanded, putting the tray down so hard that the
coffee slopped.

"I dunno," said Leander. "He said he'd got to have the gray mare, saddled
her hisself, and rode off like hell."

Mrs. Dax looked at them all savagely for the explanation that they could
not give. In sending her out to make coffee she felt that Peter, whom she
regarded in the light of a weakness, had taken advantage of her affections
to dupe her in regard to his plans.

"Take them things back to the kitchen," she commanded Leander.

Mary Carmichael involuntarily glanced at Judith; the fall of the leaf was
in her cheek.

Peter Hamilton, bowed in his saddle and flogging forward inhumanely, bred
rife speculation as to his destination among the group that watched him
from the Daxes' front door. Mrs. Dax, who entertained so profound a
respect for her own omniscience that she disdained to arrive at a
conclusion by a logical process of deduction, was "plumb certain that he
had gone after 'rustlers!'" Leander, who had held no opinions since his
marriage except that first and all-comprehensive tenet of his creed--that
his wife was a person to be loved, honored, and obeyed instantly--agreed
with his lady by a process of reflex action. The fat lady, who had a
commonplace for every occasion, didn't "know what we were all coming to."
Miss Carmichael, who was beginning to find her capacity for amazement
overstrained, alone accepted this last incident with apathy. Mr. Hamilton
might have gone in swift pursuit of cattle thieves or he might be riding
the mare to death for pure whimsy. Only Judith Rodney, who said nothing,
felt that he was spurring across the w