he did not look back.

CHAPTER XI

All through May there was an idea, dark and sinister, growing in
Bostil's mind. Fiercely at first he had rejected it as utterly unworthy
of the man he was. But it returned. It would not be denied. It was
fostered by singular and unforeseen circumstances. The meetings with
Creech, the strange, sneaking actions of young Joel Creech, and
especially the gossip of riders about the improvement in Creech's swift
horse--these things appeared to loom larger and larger and to augment
in Bostil's mind the monstrous idea which he could not shake off. So he
became brooding and gloomy.

It appeared to be an indication of his intense preoccupation of mind
that he seemed unaware of Lucy's long trips down into the sage. But
Bostil had observed them long before Holley and other riders had
approached him with the information.

"Let her alone," he growled to his men. "I gave her orders to train the
King. An' after Van got well mebbe Lucy just had a habit of ridin' down
there. She can take care of herself."

To himself, when alone, Bostil muttered: "Wonder what the kid has
looked up now? Some mischief, I'll bet!"

Nevertheless, he did not speak to her on the subject. Deep in his heart
he knew he feared his keen-eyed daughter, and during these days he was
glad she was not in evidence at the hours when he could not very well
keep entirely to himself. Bostil was afraid Lucy might divine what he
had on his mind. There was no one else he cared for. Holley, that old
hawk-eyed rider, might see through him, but Bostil knew Holley would be
loyal, whatever he saw.

Toward the end of the month, when Somers returned from horse-hunting,
Bostil put him and Shugrue to work upon the big flatboat down at the
crossing. Bostil himself went down, and he walked--a fact apt to be
considered unusual if it had been noticed.

"Put in new planks," was his order to the men. "An' pour hot tar in the
cracks. Then when the tar dries shove her in ... but I'll tell you
when."

Every morning young Creech rowed over to see if the boat was ready to
take the trip across to bring his father's horses back. The third
morning of work on the boat Bostil met Joel down there. Joel seemed
eager to speak to Bostil. He certainly was a wild-looking youth.

"Bostil, my ole man is losin' sleep waitin' to git the hosses over," he
said, frankly. "Feed's almost gone."

"That'll be all right, Joel," replied Bostil. "You see, the river ain't