please come at once or we won't get to
Moreno's in time for supper."

"But, father," protested Lucy, "Kitty and I do not wish to leave
without saying good-bye to Rufus. Would you mind--"

"No, no!" exclaimed Judge Ware irritably, "if he chooses to sleep all
day--"

"But, father!" burst out Lucy, almost tearfully, "he was so tired--he
fell asleep as soon as he sat down, and I never did get him to consent
to be my superintendent! Don't you see--"

"Well, write him a note then," directed the judge brusquely, "and
leave it on his desk. Now, Lucy dear, really I'm getting so nervous
I'm hardly accountable. _Please_ hurry. And, Kitty, please hurry,
too!"

Like two souls haled from the world without a word of explanation or
confession, Kitty and Lucy both sat down under duress to pen a last
appeal to the little man who, despite his stern disregard, somehow
held a place in their hearts. Kitty could have wept with vexation at
the thought of not seeing him again--and after she had brought her
mind to forgive him, too! She wrote blindly, she knew not what,
whether it was accusation or entreaty, and sealed the envelope with a
bang of her tiny fist--and even then he did not awaken. Lucy wrote
carefully, wrestling to turn the implacable one from his purpose and
yet feeling that he would have his will. She sealed her note and put
it upon his desk hesitatingly; then, as Kitty turned away, she
dropped her handkerchief beside it. It was a time-worn strategy, such
as only the innocent and guileless think of in their hour of
adversity. When she ran back to recover it Lucy drew a dainty book
from her bosom--Mrs. Browning's "Sonnets from the Portuguese"--and
placed it across her note as if to save it from the wind, and between
two leaves she slipped the forget-me-nots which he had given her at
Hidden Water.

As the thud of horses' hoofs died away silence settled down upon the
Dos S ranch house, the sombre silence of the desert, unbroken by the
murmur of women's voices or the echo of merry laughter, and the
sleeping man stirred uneasily on his bed. An hour passed, and then
from the _ramada_ there came a sound of wailing. Hardy rose up on his
bed suddenly, startled. The memory of the past came to him vaguely,
like fragments of an eerie dream; then the world came right and he
found himself in the bunk-house, alone--and Tommy outside, crying as
if for the dead. Leaping up from his blankets Hardy opened the door
and called him in--hoarse