. She had ridden here through this storm, she
had come all the way from El Toyon, for he had not been inattentive
while he had been just outside the door before Wanda left the room, and
she did not know a single person on the ranch. The very reason for her
presence here was a challenge to Dart's peculiar temperament.

"Tell you what I'll do," he resumed, "I'll take that skate of yours
down to the barn and throw some hay into him. He looks like it would
do him good in case the shock don't undermine his system."

He made his hesitant way toward the door, his pride a little wounded at
being defeated in the initial skirmish, his confident optimism looking
forward eagerly to a more skilful attack. And then a word from Miss
Hazleton brought him back to the charge.

"Don't trouble to take the saddle off," she said without turning. "I
shall be riding on as soon as I have my tea."

Riding on? Where? The very course she had come pointed at one place.

"It's quite a ways to Red's," he said quickly. "You better take it
easy and rest up a bit."

"Red's?" she condescended to ask.

"Sure. Shandon's, you know. You're headed for the Bar L-M, ain't you?
Say, I'm going back that way myself pretty soon. Suppose you come
along with me? I got a cart. It ain't much to look at but anyhow it
beats pounding saddle leather. We can lead your skate, if you want to."

And rather to Dart's surprise she answered promptly,

"Thank you. That will be better. But in any case don't unsaddle. And
when you come in will you bring the little bag strapped behind the
saddle?"

Wanda returned then, bringing the tea and a hastily prepared lunch.
Dart winked at her as he went out. He led the shivering horse at a
trot to the barn.

"Now," he grunted in a mournful tone that spoke of disappointment and
hinted at disgust, "wouldn't you think, to look at her, that dame had
more stuff in her head than to do a trick like that?"

For the little black bag was locked and the key was gone, and the lock
was a thing to make Mr. Dart sigh and shake his head as he had done
over Martin's safe.

"I'll get so used to turning baby tricks," he mused, "I won't be able
to do a real man's work. Well, it can't be helped when a man's putting
in time in a place like this. Now, Lady Clamshell, we'll take a peep
and see if your baggage--"

The bag was open, its contents rifled by slim, white fingers that
seemed, each one, endowed with a brain of its own.