last to favor him, and he looked at his watch. The down
stage bringing Nan back would be due in less than an hour.

"Jim," he said thoughtfully, "you are doing the right thing in showing
some good-will toward the Morgans."

"Now, I'm glad you think that, sir."

"You know I unintentionally rubbed their backs the wrong way in
dragging Sassoon out."

"They're jealous of their power, I know--very jealous."

"This seems the chance to show that I have no real animosity myself
toward the outfit."

Since de Spain was not looking at him, McAlpin cocked two keen and
curious eyes on the sphinx-like birthmark of the very amiable
speaker's face. However, the astute boss, if he wondered, made no
comment. "When the stage comes in," continued de Spain quietly, "have
the two grays--Lady and Ben--hitched to my own light Studebaker. I'll
drive her over to the Gap myself."

"The very thing," exclaimed McAlpin, staring and struggling with his
breath.

"In some way I've happened, both times I talked with her, to get in
wrong--understand?" McAlpin, with clearing wits, nodded more than
once. "No fault of mine; it just happened so. And she may not at first
take kindly to the idea of going with me."

"I see."

"But she ought to do it. She will be tired--it's a long, dusty ride
for a well woman, let alone one that has been ill."

"So it is, so it is!"

De Spain looked now shamelessly at his ready-witted aid. "See that her
pony is lame when she gets here--can't be ridden. But you'll take good
care of him and send him home in a few days--get it?"

McAlpin half closed his eyes. "He'll be so lame it would stagger a
cowboy to back him ten feet--and never be hurt a mite, neither. Trust
me!"

"No other horse that she could ride, in the barn?"

"No horse she could ride between Calabasas and Thief River."

"If she insists on riding _something_, or even walking home,"
continued de Spain dubiously, for he felt instinctively that he should
have the task of his life to induce Nan to accept any kind of a
peace-offering, "I'll ride or walk with her anyway. Can you sleep me
here to-night, on the hay?"

"Sleep you on a hair mattress, sir. You've got a room right here
up-stairs, didn't you know that?"

"Don't mind the bed," directed de Spain prudently. "I like the hay
better."

"As you like; we've got plenty of it fresh up-stairs, from the Gap.
But the bed's all right, sir; it is, on me word."

With arrangements so begun, de Spain walk