t go out
to Manzanita and take the news to her. That was part of his punishment.
He sent a telegram to Mindle, his factotum on the ground.

Hold all newspapers from Miss C. until I get there, if you have to
rob mails. E.B.

Without packing his things, without closing his house, without resigning
his editorship, he took the next train for Manzanita. Io, coming East,
and still unaware of the final tragedy, passed him, halfway.

While the choir was chanting, over the body of Willis Enderby, the
solemn glory of Royce Melvin's funeral hymn, the script of which had
been found attached to his last statement, Banneker, speeding westward,
was working out, in agony of soul, a great and patient penance, for his
own long observance, planning the secret and tireless ritual through
which Camilla Van Arsdale should keep intact her pure and long delayed
happiness while her life endured.

CHAPTER XX

A dun pony ambled along the pine-needle-carpeted trail leading through
the forest toward Camilla Van Arsdale's camp, comfortably shaded against
the ardent power of the January sun. Behind sounded a soft, rapid
padding of hooves. The pony shied to the left with a violence which
might have unseated a less practiced rider, as, with a wild whoop, Dutch
Pete came by at full gallop. Pete had been to a dance at the Sick Coyote
on the previous night which had imperceptibly merged itself into the
present morning, and had there imbibed enough of the spirit of the
occasion to last him his fifteen miles home to his ranch. Now he pulled
up and waited for the slower rider to overtake him.

"Howdy, Ban!"

"Hello, Pete."

"How's the lady gettin' on?"

"Not too well."

"Can't see much of anythin', huh?"

"No: and never will again."

"Sho! Well, I don't figger out as I'd want to live long in that fix. How
long does the doc give her, Ban?"

"Perhaps six months; perhaps a year. She isn't afraid to die; but she's
hanging to life just as long as she can. She's a game one, Pete."

"And how long will you be with us, Ban?"

"Oh, I'm likely to be around quite a while yet."

Dutch Pete, thoroughly understanding, reflected that here was another
game one. But he remarked only that he'd like to drop in on Miss
K'miller next time he rode over, with a bit of sage honey that he'd
saved out for her.

"She'll be glad to see you," returned the other. "Only, don't forget,
Pete; not a word about anything except local stuff."

"Sure!" agreed Pete