iams had termed facetiously billets-doux. Each
of them was trying to make his letter a little warmer than friendship
allowed without committing himself to any chance of a rebuff. Mac got as
far as Nora Darling, absentmindedly inserted a comma between the words,
and there stuck hopelessly. He looked enviously across at Bannister,
whose pencil was traveling rapidly down his note-book.

"My, what a swift trail your pencil leaves on that paper. That's going
some. Mine's bogged down before it got started. I wisht y'u would start
me off."

"Well, if you ain't up and started a business college already. I had
ought to have brought a typewriter along with me," murmured Missou
ironically.

"How are things stacking? Our friends the enemy getting busy yet?" asked
Bannister, folding and addressing his note.

"That's what. Orders gone out to guard every road so as not to let you
pass. What's the matter with me rustling up the boys and us holding down
a corner of this town ourselves?"

The sheepman shook his head. "We're not going to start a little private
war of our own. We couldn't do that without spilling a lot of blood. No,
we'll make a run for it."

"That y'u, Denver?" the foreman called softly, as the sound of
approaching horses reached him.

"Bet your life. Got your own broncs, too. Sheriff Burns called up
Daniels not to let any horses go out from his corral to anybody without
his O.K. I happened to be cinching at the time the 'phone message
came, so I concluded that order wasn't for me, and lit out kinder
unceremonious."

Hastily the fugitives donned the new costumes and dominos, turned their
notes over to Denver, and swung to their saddles.

"Good luck!" the punchers called after them, and Denver added an
ironical promise that the foreman had no doubt he would keep. "I'll look
out for Nora--Darling." There was a drawling pause between the first and
second names. "I'll ce'tainly see that she don't have any time to worry
about y'u, Mac."

"Y'u go to Halifax," returned Mac genially over his shoulder as he loped
away.

"I doubt if we can get out by the roads. Soon as we reach the end of the
street we better cut across that hayfield," suggested Ned.

"That's whatever. Then we'll slip past the sentries without being seen.
I'd hate to spoil any of them if we can help it. We're liable to get
ourselves disliked if our guns spatter too much."

They rode through the main street, still noisy with the shouts of late
reve