e streets when the sheriff passed through the
suburbs of the little town, for it was about the breakfast hour. One stout
old negro mammy stopped to stare in surprise at his bloody head.

"Laws a mussy, Mistah Flatray, what they done be'n a-doin' to you-all?"
she asked.

The sheriff hardly saw her. He was chewing the bitter cud of defeat and
was absorbed in his thoughts. He was still young enough to have counted on
the effect upon Melissy of his return to town with one of the abductors as
his prisoner.

It happened that she was on the porch watering her flower boxes when he
passed the house.

"Jack!" she cried, and on the heels of her exclamation: "What's the matter
with you? Been hurt?"

A gray pallor had pushed through the tan of her cheeks. She knew her heart
was beating fast.

"Bumped into a piece of bad luck," he grinned, and told her briefly what
had occurred.

She took him into the house and washed his head for him. After she saw how
serious the cuts were she insisted on sending for a doctor. When his
wounds were dressed she fed him and made him lie down and sleep on her
father's bed.

The sun was sliding down the heavens to a crotch in the hills before he
joined her again. She was in front of the house clipping her roses.

"Is the invalid better?" she asked him.

"He's a false alarm. But he did have a mighty thumping headache that has
gone now."

"I've been wondering why you didn't meet Lieutenant O'Connor. He must have
taken the road you came in on."

The young man's eyes lit. "Is Bucky here already?"

"He was. He's gone. I was greatly disappointed in him. He's not half the
man you think he is."

"Oh, but he is. Everybody says so."

"I never saw a more conceited man, or a more hateful one. There's
something about him--oh, I don't know. But he isn't good. I'm sure of
that."

"His reputation isn't of that kind. They say he's devoted to his wife and
kids."

"His wife and children." Melissy recalled the smoldering admiration in his
bold eyes. She laughed shortly. "That finishes him with me. He's married,
is he? Well, I know the kind of husband he is."

Jack flashed a quick look at her. He guessed what she meant. But this did
not square at all with what his friends had told him of O'Connor.

"Did he ask for me?"

"No. He said he preferred to play a lone hand. His manner was unpleasant
all the time. He knows it all. I could see that."

"Anyhow, he's a crackerjack in his line. Have you hear