served. Twice he had driven to Echo
since her father had been hurt, and each time he had stopped at the
corral on his way to the house. So she closed the screen door behind
her, careful that it should not slam, and ran down the path in the heavy
dusk wherein crickets were rasping a strident chorus.

"Oh! It's you, is it, Lone?" she exclaimed, when she neared the vague
figure of a man unsaddling a horse. "You didn't see Frank coming
anywhere, did you? Dad won't have his supper until Frank comes with the
things I sent for. He's late."

Lone was lifting the saddle off the back of John Doe, which he had
bought from the Sawtooth because he was fond of the horse. He hesitated
and replaced the saddle, pulling the blanket straight under it.

"I saw him coming an hour ago," he said. "I was back up on the ridge,
and I saw a team turn into the Quirt trail from the ford. It couldn't be
anybody but Frank. I'll ride out and meet him."

He was mounted and gone before she realized that he was ready. She heard
the sharp staccato of John Doe's hoofbeats and wondered why Lone had not
waited for another word from her. It was as if she had told him that
Frank was in some terrible danger,--yet she had merely complained that
he was late. The bunk-house door opened, and Sorry came out on the
doorstep, stood there a minute and came slowly to meet her as she
retraced her steps to the house.

"Where'd Lone go so sudden?" he asked, when she came close to him in the
dusk. "That was him, wasn't it?"

Lorraine stopped and stood looking at him without speaking. A vague
terror had seized her. She wanted to scream, and yet she could think of
nothing to scream over. It was Lone's haste, she told herself
impatiently. Her nerves were ragged from nursing her dad and from
worrying over things she must not talk about,--that forbidden subject
which never left her mind for long.

"Wasn't that him?" Sorry repeated uneasily. "What took him off again in
such a rush?"

"Oh, I don't know! He said Frank should have been here long ago. He went
to look for him. Sorry," she cried suddenly, "what _is_ the matter with
this place? I feel as if something horrible was just ready to jump out
at us all. I--I want my back against something solid, all the time, so
that nothing can creep up behind. Nothing," she added desperately,
"could happen to Frank between here and the turn-off at the ford, could
it? Lone saw him turn into our trail over an hour ago, he said."

So