es--yes, don't worry about it. We'll fix him. You come and get on
John Doe and let me take you to the ranch. Come on--you're wet as a
ducked pup."

"That man was just riding along--I saw him when it lightened. And he
shot him--oh, can't you _do_ something?"

"Yes, yes, they're after him right now. Here. Just put your foot in
the stirrup--I'll help you up. Why, you're soaked!" Perseveringly
Lone urged her to the horse. "You're soaking wet!" he exclaimed again.

"It rained," she muttered confusedly. "I thought it was the ranch--but
they were rocks. Just rocks. Did you _see_ him shoot that man?
Why--why it shouldn't be allowed! He ought to be arrested right
away--I'd have called a policeman but--isn't thunder and lightning just
perfectly _awful_? And that horse--going down the road dragging----"

"You'd better get some one to double for me in this scene," she said
irrelevantly. "I--I don't know this horse, and if he starts running
the boys might not catch him in time. It isn't safe, is it?"

"It's safe," said Lone pityingly. "You won't be dragged. You just get
on and ride. I'll lead him. John Doe's gentle as a dog."

"Just straight riding?" Lorraine considered the matter gravely.
"Wel-ll--but I saw a man dragged, once. He'd been shot first. It--it
was awful!"

"I'll bet it was. How'd you come to be walking so far?"

Lorraine looked at him suspiciously. Lone thought her eyes were the
most wonderful eyes--and the most terrible--that he had ever seen.
Almond-shaped they were, the irises a clear, dark gray, the eyeballs
blue-white like a healthy baby's. That was the wonder of them. But
their glassy shine made them terrible. Her lids lifted in a sudden
stare.

"You're not the man, are you? I--I think he was taller than you. And
his hat was brown. He's a brute--a _beast_! To shoot a man just
riding along---- It rained," she added plaintively. "My bag is back
there somewhere under a bush. I think I could find the bush--it was
where a rabbit was sitting--but he's probably gone by this time. A
rabbit," she told him impressively, "wouldn't sit out in the rain all
night, would he? He'd get wet. And a rabbit would feel horrid when he
was wet--such thick fur he never _would_ get dried out. Where do they
go when it rains? They have holes in the ground, don't they?"

"Yes. Sure, they do. I'll show you one, down the road here a little
piece. Come on--it ain't far."

To see a rabbit h