p. There's the stage road, but they'll watch
that, I'm afraid. They mean to stop payment on the checks. But
first they will kill you if they can. They say you cheated with that
thoroughbred horse. They took their losses so calmly--I knew that they
meant to rob you. To show you how I know, it was Lew you shot on the
ridge that night. His rheumatism was caused by your bullet that nicked
his shoulder. So you see what sort we are--go. Don't wait--go now."

Bud looked up, and there was Honey leaning over the counter, smiling at
him.

"Well, how much is it?" she teased when she saw he had discovered her.

Bud drew a line across the note and added imaginary columns of figures,
his hat-brim hiding his face.

"Over eleven thousand dollars," he announced, and twisted the paper
in his fingers while he went over to her. "Almost enough to start
housekeeping!"

Honey blushed and leaned to look for something which she pretended to
have dropped and Bud seized the opportunity to tuck the paper out of
sight. "I feel pretty much intoxicated to-night, Honey," he said. "I
think I need soothing, or something--and you know what music does to the
savage breast. Let 's play."

"All right. You've been staying away lately till I thought you were
mad," Honey assented rather eagerly, and opened the little gate in the
half partition just as Bud was vaulting the counter, which gave her
a great laugh and a chance for playful scuffling. Bud kissed her and
immediately regretted the caress.

Jerry had told him to play the piano, but Bud took his mandolin and
played that while Honey thumped out chords for him. As he had half
expected, most of the men strayed in and perched here and there
listening just as if there had not been a most unusual horserace to
discuss before they slept. Indeed, Bud had never seen the Little Lost
boys so thoughtful, and this silence struck him all at once as something
sinister, like a beast of prey stalking its kill.

Two waltzes he played--and then, in the middle of a favorite two-step,
a mandolin string snapped with a sharp twang, and Bud came as close to
swearing as a well-behaved young man may come in the presence of a lady.

"Now I'll have to go get a new E string," he complained. "You play the
Danube for the boys--the way I taught you--while I get this fixed. I've
an extra string down in the bunk-house; it won't take five minutes to
get it." He laid the mandolin down on his chair, bolted out through the
screen d