with the riderless horse
she had seen as she rode away from the wagon, the huddled figure
sprawled in the flat. Every Three Bar rider was a friend and she
hesitated to hear which one of her men had gone down in the raid.

"Who was it?" she asked at last, and Harris divined that she was
harking back to the fallen night guard who had tried to head the
raiders alone.

"I've been trying not to think about that," he said. "Lanky was a good
pal of mine. I saw him go down, but I couldn't stop right then."

Evans occupied a place in her regard that was perhaps a notch higher
than that of any other of the crew.

"Can't we prove anything on Slade--do anything to stop him?" she
demanded. "If they've killed Lanky, I'll perjure myself if it's the
only way. I'll have Alden pick him up and I'll swear I saw him do the
thing himself. He's as guilty as if he actually had."

"I've a bait or two out for Slade," Harris said. "But that way may
prove too slow. If Lanky's gone under, I expect I'll have to pick a
quarrel with Slade and hurry things along."

"Don't you!" she objected. For all of her confidence in Harris's
efficiency in most respects, her implicit belief in his courage, she
could not forget the awkward swing of his gun and she had a swift
vision of him facing Slade without a chance.

A crash of wagon wheels and the voice of Waddles admonishing the horses
interrupted her. The chuck wagon rolled round a bend as the big cook
followed the trail of the night run. Every bed had been rolled and
loaded to eliminate the necessity of a return. The remuda trailed
behind the wagon under the combined supervision of the nighthawk and
the wrangler.

"How is Lanky?" was Harris's first query.

Waddles jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Evans, shot once through the
arm and a second time through the shoulder, reclined on the
triple-thickness bed roll the cook had spread for him on the floor of
the wagon.

"Only nicked--clean holes and no bones," Lanky said. "I'll be all
right as soon as Waddles will let me out of this chariot and I get to
riding comfortable on a horse."

"He'll come round fine in a few days if we can keep him offen a horse
and riding comfortable in the wagon," Waddles countered. "I've give
him orders to that effect."

Evans groaned.

"He drives over places I wouldn't cross afoot," he complained. "Did
you hold the run?"

Reassured on this point he flattened out on his pallet and the wagon
held on