ntion to
business and he could give Kate the advantages he wished. He listened,
got up from the condensed-milk box upon which he sat and walked to the
entrance of the tent once more. He strained his ears, but death itself
was not more still than the opaque night.

Kate had left immediately after breakfast, and since the horses had only
a few hours' start and would probably feed as they went, she had
expected to be back by noon.

Kate was exceedingly resourceful--she knew what to do if caught out, he
assured himself, unless she had been hurt. It was this thought that gave
him a curious stillness at his heart. What would life be without her
now? With the knife in his hand he stopped as he turned inside and
stared at the potatoes on the box. He never had thought of that
before--it left him aghast.

The girl had twined herself into every fiber of his nature from the time
she had come to him as a child. She was identified with every hope.
Humph! He knew well enough what the answer would be if anything happened
to Kate. He would shoot the chutes, again--quick. It was she who had
awakened his ambition and kept him tolerably straight. Without her?
Humph!

He stoked the sheet-iron camp stove, put the potatoes to boil, cut chops
enough for two and laid the table with the steel knives and forks and
tin plates. Then he set out a tin of molasses and the sour-dough bread,
after which there was nothing to do but wait for the potatoes to boil,
and for Kate.

He was trying the potatoes with a fork when he raised his head sharply.
He was sure he heard the rattle of rocks. A faint whoop followed.

"Thank God!" He breathed the ejaculation fervently, yet he said merely
as he stood in the entrance puffing his pipe as she rode up, "Got 'em, I
see, Katie!"

"Sure. Don't I always get what I go after?" Then, with a tired laugh,
"I'm disappointed; I thought you would be worried about me."

He smiled quizzically.

"I don't know why you'd think that."

"I'll know better next time," she replied good-humoredly, as she swung
down with obvious weariness.

"There won't be any next time," he replied abruptly, "at least not at
this season of the year."

"Oh, but I'm glad I went," she interposed hastily.

As Mormon Joe unwrapped the lead-rope from the saddle horn and took the
horses away to picket, he wondered what wonderful adventure she would
have to relate, for she seemed able to extract entertainment from nearly
anything. By the time