walked quickly into her bedroom, returning in a
moment or two with a little chamois case from which she drew a tiny
twenty-two caliber revolver, beautifully etched and silver-mounted, with
a mother-of-pearl stock.

"Your uncle gave it to me many years ago and showed me how to use it," she
explained, laying it beside her plate. "I've never shot it off, but I see
no reason why--"

She broke off with a gasp, and both women started and turned pale, as a
harsh, metallic rattle rang through the room.

"What is it?" whispered Mary, half rising.

"The telephone! I can't get used to that strange rattle. Answer it,
quickly!"

Springing up, Mary flew across the room and took down the receiver.

"Hello," she said tremulously. "Who is--_Oh, Buck!_" Her eyes widened and
the blood rushed into her face. "I'm so glad! But where are you?... I see.
No, they're not here.... I know I did, but I thought--I wish now I'd told
you. We--we're frightened.... What?.... No, not yet; but--but there's some
one hiding in the loft over the harness-room.... I don't know, but I saw a
face at the window.... Yes, everything's locked up, but--"

Abruptly she broke off and turned her head a little, the blood draining
slowly from her face. A sound had come to her which struck terror to her
heart. Yet it was a sound familiar enough on the range-land--merely the
beat of a horse's hoofs, faint and far away, but growing rapidly nearer.

"Wait!" she called into the receiver, "Just a--minute."

Her frightened eyes sought Mrs. Archer and read confirmation in the elder
woman's strained attitude of listening.

"Some one's coming," the girl breathed. Suddenly she flung herself
desperately at the telephone. "Buck!" she cried. "There's some one riding
up.... I don't know, but I'm--afraid.... Yes, do come quickly.... What's
that?"

With a little cry she rattled the hook and repeatedly pressed the round
button which operated the bell. "Buck! Buck!" she cried into the
receiver.

The thud of hoofs came clearly to her now; it was as if the horse was
galloping up the slope from the lower gate.

"What's the matter?" demanded Mrs. Archer, in a hoarse, dry voice.

With a despairing gesture the girl dropped the receiver and turned a face
drained of every particle of color.

"The wire's--dead," she said hopelessly.

Mrs. Archer caught her breath sharply, but made no other sound. In the
silence that followed they could hear the horse pull up just beyond the
vera