actually almost penniless, and the cunning
assumption of senility, was pictured on his face. Pop's poor, miserly
soul was for a minute shamelessly revealed. Distraught though he was,
Bud stared and shuddered a little at the spectacle.

"I always said 't you're a good, honest, well-meaning boy," Pop cackled,
slyly putting the money out of sight while he patted Bud on the
shoulder. "Dave he thought mebby you took and stole Boise--and if I was
you, Bud, I'd git to Spokane quick as I could and not let Dave ketch ye.
Dave's out now lookin' for ye. If he suspicioned you'd have the gall to
come right back to Little Lost, I expect mebby he'd string yuh up, young
feller. Dave's got a nasty temper--he has so!"

"There's something else, Pop, that I don't like very well to be accused
of. You say Mrs. Morris is gone. I don't know a thing about that, or
about the horse being gone. I've been in Crater. I'd just got my money
out of the bank when it was held up, and Lew was shot."

Pop teetered and gummed his tobacco and grinned foxily. "Shucks! I don't
care nothin' about Lew's wife goin', ner I don't care nothin' much about
the horse. They ain't no funral uh mine, Bud. Dave an' Lew, let 'em look
after their own belongin's."

"They'll have to, far as I'm concerned," said Bud. "What would I want
of a horse I can beat any time I want to run mine? Dave must think I'm
scared to ride fast, since Sunday! And Pop, I've got troubles enough
without having a woman on my hands. Are you sure Marian's gone?"

"SURE?" Pop snorted. "Honey, she's had to do the cookin' for me an'
Jerry--and if I ain't sure--"

Bud did not wait to hear him out. There was Honey, whom he would very
much like to avoid meeting; so the sooner he made certain of Marian's
deliberate flight the better, since Honey was not an early riser. He
went to the house and entered by way of the kitchen, feeling perfectly
sure all the while that Pop was watching him. The disorder there was
sufficiently convincing that Marian was gone, so he tip-toed across the
room to a door through which he had never seen any one pass save Lew and
Marian.

It was her bedroom, meagrely furnished, but in perfect order. On the
goods-box dresser with a wavy-glassed mirror above it, her hair brush,
comb and a few cheap toilet necessities lay, with the comb across a
nail file as if she had put it down hurriedly before going out to serve
supper to the men. Marian, then, had not stolen home to pack things