you love me still, and you know you do." He smiled winningly, and hooked
his arm through Bob's on one side and his father's on the other. "Come
on, you old deacon; play the game!" he cried.

Bob laughed, and gave in.

XXXIX

Bob took his father with him back to headquarters. They rode in near the
close of day; and, as usual, from the stovepipe of the roofless kitchen
a brave pillar of white smoke rose high in the shadows of the firs. Amy
came forth at Bob's shout, starched and fresh, her cheeks glowing with
their steady colour, her intelligent eyes alight with interest under the
straight, serene brows. At sight of Orde, the vivacity of her manner
quieted somewhat, but Bob could see that she was excited about
something. He presented his father, who dismounted and greeted her with
a hearty shake of the hand.

"We've heard of you, Miss Thorne," said he simply, but it was evident he
was pleased with the frankness of her manner, the clear steadiness of
her eye, the fresh daintiness of her appearance, and the respect of her
greeting. On the other hand, she looked back with equal pleasure on the
tanned, sturdy old man with the white hair and moustache, the clear
eyes, and the innumerable lines of quaint good-humour about them. After
they had thus covertly surveyed each other for a moment, the aforesaid
lines about Orde's eyes deepened, his eyes twinkled with mischief, and
he thrust forth his hand for the second time. "Shake again!" he offered.
Amy gurgled forth a little chuckle of good feeling and understanding,
and laid her fingers in his huge palm.

After this they turned and walked slowly to the hitch rails where the
men tied their horses.

"Where's the Supervisor?" Bob asked of Amy.

"In the office," she replied; and then burst out excitedly: "I've the
greatest news!"

"So have I," returned Bob, promptly. "Best kind."

"Oh, what is it?" she cried, forgetting all about her own. "Is it Mr.
Welton?"

"It'll take some time to tell mine," said Bob, "and we must hunt up Mr.
Thorne. Yours first."

"Pollock is free!"

"Pollock free!" echoed Bob. "How is that? I thought his trial was not
until next week!"

"The prosecuting attorney quashed the indictment--or whatever it is they
do. Anyhow, he let George go for lack of evidence to convict."

"I guess he was relying on evidence promised by Oldham, which he never
got," Bob surmised.

"And never will," Orde cautioned them. "You two young people must be
ca