hed for the letter, noting that
the real-estate man did not doff the floppy hat, or make any swinging
bows.

"A letter?"

"Yep, from Lounsbury. I told him I was going to lope back down to the
Bend--but I didn't." He snickered.

"Where's he gone?" she asked, slitting the envelope with a shaking hand.

"Dunno," answered Braden. He was leaning on a wheel now, surveying Ben
and Betty with a critical, and somewhat disdainful, eye. For each was
hanging upon three legs to rest a fourth. Presently, he glanced up at
Marylyn, and his eye lit impudently. "Dunno," he repeated. "You're his
girl. _You_ ought to know."

But Dallas did not hear him. She was scanning a page, closely written
and addressed to herself.

"A telegram has come calling me home [ran the letter]. It
says my mother is ill--'seriously ill'--and I am afraid it's
put that way to hide something worse. It is the only thing
that could take me out of Dakota now. But I am not leaving
you unprotected. Before I left Brannon, I arranged to have
Matthews watched every hour of the day and night. And he is
the only thing that might make you trouble. For if the
Indians get nasty, I know Oliver will insist on bringing you
in. Still, I shall worry terribly till I get back. I wish I
could write all I would like to. But it would be what I have
already told you--you will understand."

Thus, it ended.

Dallas thrust it into the pocket of her skirt, took the reins and lifted
the black-snake. Ben saw the threatening movement from behind his bridle
blinds. He sprang forward. The wheel rolled from under Braden's elbow.

"Well, I'll be damned!" he growled. "Ain't you going to say ta-ta?" He
strode along at the tailboard, smirking up at the two in an attempt to
be friendly. "Maybe you'd like company going home," he said. "Lonely
trip for girls, 'specially when they ain't got a gun." He gave Marylyn a
bold wink.

"Thank you," replied Dallas, shortly. "We don't want company--and we
_have_ got a gun." She lifted the pistol from the seat.

Braden fell behind. "Stop and drink some beer, anyway," he called. "Got
some in here. You mustn't be mad at me because Johnnie's mamma sent for
him. Come on back."

To this, no answer was made. Dallas gave the team a few smart cuts. The
wagon rumbled out of the street.

And now began the return journey. Five hours had been consumed in
reaching Clark's. Ten minutes had been wa