his conscience did not trouble him now.

More they said about Andy Green--he and Take-Notice, with Irish mostly
silent and with the girl extremely indignant at times and at others
slightly incredulous, but always eager to hear more. More they said,
not with malice, perhaps, for they liked Andy Green, but with the
spirit of reminiscence strong upon them. Many things that he had said
and done they recalled and laughed over--but the girl did not laugh.
At sundown, when they rode away, she scribbled a hasty note, put it in
an envelope and entrusted it to Irish for immediate delivery to the
absent and erring one. Then they rode home, promising each other that
they would sure devil Andy to death when they saw him, and wishing
that they had ridden long ago to the cabin of Take-Notice. It was not
pleasant to know that Andy Green had again fooled them completely.

None at the ranch had seen Andy, and they speculated much upon the
nature of the game he was playing. Happy Jack wanted to bet that Andy
really had broken his leg--but that was because he had a present
grievance against Irish and hated to agree with anything he said. But
when they went to bed, the Happy Family had settled unanimously upon
the theory that Andy had ridden to Dry Lake, and would come loping
serenely down the trail next day.

Irish did not know what time it was when he found himself sitting up
in bed listening, but he discovered Pink getting quietly into his
clothes. Irish hesitated a moment, and then felt under his pillow for
his own garments--long habit had made him put them there--and began to
dress. "I guess I'll go along with yuh," he whispered.

"Yuh can if yuh want to," Pink answered ungraciously. "But yuh needn't
raise the long howl if--"

"Hold on, boys; my ante's on the table," came guardedly from Weary's
bunk, and there was a soft, shuffling sound as of moving blankets; the
subdued scrape of boots pulled from under bunks, and the quiet
searching for hats and gloves. There was a clank of spur-chains, the
faint squeal of a hinge gone rusty, a creak of a loose board, and then
the three stood together outside under the star-sprinkle and avoided
looking at one another. Without a word they went down the deep-worn
path to the big gate, swung it open and headed for the corral where
slept their horses.

"If them bone-heads don't wake up, nobody'll be any the wiser--and
it's a lovely night for a ramble," murmured Weary, consoling himself.

"Well,