uld understand. Three cowpunchers came
running and hindered him a good deal in carrying her into the house, and
the foreman's wife ran excitedly from one room to the other, asking
questions and demanding that some one do something "for pity's sake, she
may be dying for all you know, while you stand there gawping like
fool-hens."

"She was out all night in the rain--got lost, somehow. She said she was
coming here, so I brought her on. She's down with a cold, Mrs. Hawkins.
Better take off them wet clothes and put hot blankets around her. And a
poultice or something on her chest, I reckon." Lone turned to the door,
stopped to roll a cigarette, and watched Mrs. Hawkins hurrying to
Lorraine with a whisky toddy the cook had mixed for her.

"A sweat's awful good for a cold like she's got," he volunteered
practically. "She's out of her head--or she was when I found her. But I
reckon that's mostly scare, from being lost all night. Give her a good
sweat, why don't you?" He reached the doorstep and then turned back to
add, "She left a grip back somewhere along the road. I'll go hunt it up,
I reckon."

He mounted John Doe and rode down to the corral, where two or three
riders were killing time on various pretexts while they waited for
details of Lone's adventure. Delirious young women of the silk-stocking
class did not arrive at the Sawtooth every morning, and it was rumored
already amongst the men that she was some looker, which naturally
whetted their interest in her.

"I'll bet it's one of Bob's girls, come trailin' him up. Mebby another
of them heart-ballum cases of Bob's," hazarded Pop Bridgers, who read
nothing unless it was printed on pink paper, and who refused to believe
that any good could come out of a city. "Ain't that right, Loney?
Hain't she a heart-ballum girl of Bob's?"

From the saddle Lone stared down impassively at Pop and Pop's
companions. "I don't know a thing about her," he stated emphatically.
"She said she was coming to the ranch, and she was scared of the thunder
and lightning. That's every word of sense I could get outa her. She
ain't altogether ignorant--she knows how to climb on a horse, anyway,
and she kicked about having to ride sideways on account of her skirts.
She was plumb out of her head, and talked wild, but she handled her
reins like a rider. And she never mentioned Bob, nor anybody else
excepting some fellow she called Charlie. She thought I was him, but she
only talked to me friendly. Sh