t durin' my struggle here. You're brave an' you're big."

Lenore wanted to say something, to show her feeling, to make her task
seem lighter, but she could not speak.

"We're pards now--with no secrets", he continued, with a different note
in his voice. "An' I want you to know that it ain't likely Nash or
Glidden will get out of this country alive."

CHAPTER VII

Three days later, Lenore accompanied her father on the ride to the Bend
country. She sat in the back seat of the car with Jake--an arrangement
very gratifying to the cowboy, but received with ill-concealed
displeasure by the driver, Nash. They had arranged to start at sunrise,
and it became manifest that Nash had expected Lenore to sit beside him
all during the long ride. It was her father, however, who took the front
seat, and behind Nash's back he had slyly winked at Lenore, as if to
compliment her on the evident success of their deep plot. Lenore, at the
first opportunity that presented, shot Nash a warning glance which was
sincere enough. Jake had begun to use keen eyes, and there was no
telling what he might do.

The morning was cool, sweet, fresh, with a red sun presaging a hot day.
The big car hummed like a droning bee and seemed to cover the miles as
if by magic. Lenore sat with face uncovered, enjoying the breeze and the
endless colorful scene flashing by, listening to Jake's amusing
comments, and trying to keep back thought of what discovery might await
her before the end of this day.

Once across the Copper River, they struck the gradual ascent, and here
the temperature began to mount and the dust to fly. Lenore drew her
veils close and, leaning comfortably back, she resigned herself to wait
and to endure.

By the flight of a crow it was about a hundred miles from Anderson's
ranch to Palmer; but by the round-about roads necessary to take the
distance was a great deal longer. Lenore was well aware when they got up
on the desert, and the time came when she thought she would suffocate.
There appeared to be intolerable hours in which no one spoke and only
the hum and creak of the machine throbbed in her ears. She could not see
through her veils and did not part them until a stop was made at Palmer.

Her father got out, sputtering and gasping, shaking the dust in clouds
from his long linen coat. Jake, who always said he lived on dust and
heat, averred it was not exactly a regular fine day. Lenore looked out,
trying to get a breath of air. N