hen he continued on his way. "Lusk!" he called, presently, and in a few
steps more, "Lusk!" Then, as he came slowly out of the trees to meet the
husband he began, with quiet evenness, "Your wife wants to know--" But
he stopped. No husband was there. Wagon and horse were not there. The
door was shut. The bewildered cow-puncher looked up the stream where the
road went, and he looked down. Out of the sky where daylight and stars
were faintly shining together sounded the long cries of the night hawks
as they sped and swooped to their hunting in the dusk. From among the
trees by the stream floated a cooler air, and distant and close by
sounded the splashing water. About the meadow where Lin stood his horses
fed, quietly crunching. He went to the door, looked in, and shut it
again. He walked to his shed and stood contemplating his own wagon alone
there. Then he lifted away a piece of trailing vine from the gate of
the corral, while the turkeys moved their heads and watched him from the
roof. A rope was hanging from the corral, and seeing it, he dropped the
vine. He opened the corral gate, and walked quickly back into the middle
of the field, where the horses saw him and his rope, and scattered. But
he ran and herded them, whirling the rope, and so drove them into the
corral, and flung his noose over two. He dragged two saddles--men's
saddles--from the stable, and next he was again at his cabin door with
the horses saddled. She was sitting quite still by the table where she
had sat during the meal, nor did she speak or move when she saw him look
in at the door.

"Lusk has gone," said he. "I don't know what he expected you would do,
or I would do. But we will catch him before he gets to Drybone."

She looked at him with her dumb stare. "Gone?" she said.

"Get up and ride," said McLean. "You are going to Drybone."

"Drybone?" she echoed. Her voice was toneless and dull.

He made no more explanations to her, but went quickly about the cabin.
Soon he had set it in order, the dishes on their shelves, the table
clean, the fire in the stove arranged; and all these movements she
followed with a sort of blank mechanical patience. He made a small
bundle for his own journey, tied it behind his saddle, brought her horse
beside a stump. When at his sharp order she came out, he locked his
cabin and hung the key by a window, where travellers could find it and
be at home.

She stood looking where her husband had slunk off. Then she laugh