ak, hesitated, and closed them without making a sound. He turned
away and stared down into the street that was so empty. After a little
he glanced at his own watch, with the same impulse Jean had felt. The
hours and minutes were beginning to drag their feet as they passed.

"You go in," he ordered gently, "and lie down. You'll be all worn out
when the time comes for you to get busy. We don't know what's ahead of
us on this trail, Jean. Right now, it's peaceful as Sunday morning
down in Maine; so you go in and get some sleep, while you have a
chance, and stop thinking about things. Go on, Jean. I'll call you
plenty early; you needn't be afraid of missing the train."

Jean smiled a little at the tender, protective note of authority in his
voice and manner. Whether she permitted it or not, Lite would go right
on watching over her and taking care of her. With a sudden desire to
please him, she rose obediently. When she passed him, she reached out
and gave his arm a little squeeze.

"You cantankerous old tyrant," she drawled in a whisper, "you do love
to haze me around, don't you? Just to spite you, I'll do it!" She went
in and left him standing there, smoking and leaning against the post,
calm as the stars above. But under that surface calm, the heart of
Lite Avery was thumping violently. His arm quivered still under the
thrill of Jean's fingers. Your bottled-up souls are quick to sense the
meaning in a tone or a touch; Jean, whether she herself knew it or not,
had betrayed an emotion that set Lite's thoughts racing out into a
golden future. He stood there a long while, staring out upon the
darkness, his eyes shining.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE LETTER IN THE CHAPS

Though hours may drag themselves into the past so sluggishly that one
is fairly maddened by the snail's pace of them, into the past they must
go eventually. Jean had sat and listened to the wheels of the Golden
State Limited clank over the cryptic phrase that meant so much.
"Letter-in-the-chaps! Letter-in-the chaps!" was what they had said
while the train pounded across the desert and slid through arroyas and
deep cuts which leveled hills for its passing. "Letter-in-the-chaps!
Letter-in-the-chaps!" And then a silence while they stood by some
desolate station where the people were swarthy of skin and black of
hair and eyes, and moved languidly if they moved at all. Then they
would go on; and when the wheels had clicked over the switches of the
v