rous laugh. Kelly walked
in just then from the kitchen and Van Horn, losing none of his
malevolence, did stand aside.

"All right," he said, "--this time."

CHAPTER XXVIII

A DIFFICULT RESOLVE

For two days Kate burned in feverish reaction from her exposure,
wretched in mind and body. Her only effort in that time was to get
down to the corral and see that Bradley, acting as barn boy, should do
something for her cut and bruised pony.

Her father was still in Medicine Bend, and Van Horn, much to her
relief, had disappeared. When she left her bed she spent the morning
trying to rehabilitate her riding suit. The task called for all her
ingenuity and she was still in the kitchen working on it late in the
afternoon when Bradley came in.

He had no sooner sat down by the door to report to Kate at his ease,
than Kelly interrupted him with a call for wood. Even after he had
filled the box, Kelly warned him he would have to split more next
morning to get a supply ahead.

"Easy, Kelly," remonstrated Bradley, in his deeply tremulous voice.
"Easy. I can't split no wood t'morrow mornin', not for nobody."

"Why not?"

"Got to go to town."

"What for?"

Bradley declined to answer, but Kelly, persistent, bored into his
evasiveness until Kate tired at the discussion: "Tell him what you're
going for and be done with it," she said tartly. The reaction of three
days had not left her own nerves unaffected; she admitted to herself
she was cross.

Bradley, taken aback by this unexpected assault, still tried to
temporize. Kate refused to countenance it. When he saw he was in for
it, he appealed to her generosity: "It'd be most 's much 's my job's
worth if they knew here what I'm goin' to town tomorrow f'r."

"If that's all," said Kate, to reassure the old man, "I'll stand
between you and losing your job."

Bradley drew his stubby chin and shabby beard in and threw his voice
down into his throat: "D' y' mean that? Then don't say nothin', you
and Kelly. Least said, soonest mended. I'm goin' t' town t'morrow t'
see the biggest funeral ever pulled off in Sleepy Cat," he announced
with bleary dignity.

"What do you mean--whose funeral?" demanded Kate, looking at him
suddenly.

"Abe Hawk's. It's goin' t' be t'morrow er next day."

If the old man had meant to stupefy his questioner, he could not better
have succeeded. Kate turned deathly white. She bent over the table
and busied herself with her ironing.