to the Flyin' W," said Randerson, as though the
discovery pleased him. "I'm goin' to the Flyin' W, too, soon as I see
Catherson. I reckon, if you two ain't got no particular yearnin' to go
prowlin' around in the timber any longer, we'll all go back to
Catherson's shack an' wait for him there. Three'll be company, while it'd
be mighty lonesome for one."

Masten cleared his throat and looked intently at Randerson's
imperturbable face. Did he know anything? A vague unrest seized Masten.
Involuntarily he shivered, and his voice was a little hoarse when he
spoke, though he attempted to affect carelessness:

"I don't think I will wait for Catherson," he said, "I can see him
tomorrow, just as well."

"Well, that's too bad," drawled Randerson. "After waitin' this long, too!
But I reckon you're right; it wouldn't be no use waitin'. I'll go too, I
reckon. We'll ride to the Flyin' W together."

"I don't want to force my company on you, Randerson," laughed Masten
nervously. "Besides, I had thought of taking the river trail--back toward
Lazette, you know."

Randerson looked at him with a cold smile. "The Lazette trail suits me
too," he said; "we'll go that way."

Masten looked at him again. The smile on Randerson's face was
inscrutable. And now the pallor left Masten's cheeks and was succeeded by
a color that burned. For he now was convinced and frightened. He heard
Randerson speaking to Hagar, and so gentle was his voice that it startled
him, so great was the contrast between it and the slumbering threat in
his eyes and manner:

"Me an' Masten is goin' to make a short cut over to where his horse is,
Hagar; we've changed our minds about goin' to the shack with you. We've
decided that we're goin' to talk over that business that he come here
about--not botherin' your dad with it." His lips straightened at the
startled, dreading look that sprang into her eyes. "Dad ain't goin' to
know, girl," he assured her gravely. "I'd never tell him. You go back to
the shack an' pitch into your work, sort of forgettin' that you ever saw
Mr. Masten. For he's goin' away tonight, an' he ain't comin' back."

Hagar covered her face with her hands and sank into the grass beside the
path, crying.

"By God, Randerson!" blustered Masten, "what do you mean? This is going
too--"

A look silenced him--choked the words in his throat, and he turned
without protest, at Randerson's jerk of the head toward the ford, and
walked without looking back, Rand