pop for sure. You
go on over to the hotel if you want to. Ma'll take care of the twins."

The departure of the stage for Socorro occurred once a week or so, if all
went well, and the event was always one of importance. Even Mr.
Ellsworth and Constance found themselves joining the groups which
wandered now toward the post-office, next door to Whiteman's store, in
front of which Bill Godfrey regularly made his first stop preparatory to
leaving town. As they two passed up the street from the hotel, they
missed the Littlest Girl, who crossed the _arroyo_ above them by a
quarter of a mile; Heart's Desire being, in view of its population, a
city of magnificent distances.

The man from Leavenworth, postmaster, had nearly finished the solemn
performance of locking up the emaciated mail-bag for Socorro, and Bill
Godfrey was looking intently at his watch--which had not gone for six
months--when all at once the assemblage in and around the post-office was
startled by shrieks, screams, and calls of the most alarming nature.
These rapidly approached from the direction of the _arroyo_, beyond
which lay the residence portion of Heart's Desire. Presently there was
to be distinguished the voice of a woman, raised in terrified
lamentations, accompanied with the broken screams of a child in evident
distress. There appeared, hastening toward the group in front of the
store, Curly's mother-in-law, wife of the postmaster of Heart's Desire,
and guardian as well of the twins of Heart's Desire. It was one of these
twins, Arabella, whom she now hurried along with her, at such speed that
the child's feet scarce touched the ground. When this latter did happen,
Arabella seemed synchronously to catch her breath, becoming thus able to
emit one more spasmodic wail. There was pain and fright in the cries,
and the whole attitude of the woman from Kansas was such that all knew
some tragedy had occurred or was impending.

"Good Lord!" cried Curly, "I'll bet a thousand dollars the kid's got my
strychnine bottle this time! I left it in the window. There was enough
to poison a thousand coyotes!"

He sprang forward to catch the other arm of the sobbing child. The man
from Kansas, postmaster of Heart's Desire, hastened to join his wife in
the street, wagging his gray beard in wild queries. In half a moment all
the population was massed in front of Whiteman's store, incoherent,
frightened, utterly helpless.

"She's dyin'!" cried the woman fro