k.

"I'm sorry, Bill!" said Haig, looking down at him.

"It's my own fault," replied Craven. "An' it serves me damned right
for lettin' him get by me."

Haig smiled grimly, then turned to the other men with orders. He was
ominously quiet; even the dullest of them, the slow-witted Curly, saw
and wondered at the unusual calm that showed on his face and in his
accents.

"Now then, business!" he said, with swift decision. "You'll take the
sorrels, Curly, and drive to Tellurium for the doctor. Don't be afraid
to drive them; I'll not be on your back for that. Pete, go to the
cottage, and bring my gun. Jim knows where it is. Farrish--where's
Farrish?"

"Here!"

He came leading two ponies from their stalls.

"What are you doing, Farrish?"

"I supposed we'd better find out where he's gone, and see if--"

"There's no doubt where he's headed for, is there?" Haig interrupted.
"And who's going to stop him? No, saddle Trixy!"

"But you're not going alone?" said Farrish.

"Yes."

"But--"

"Bill's knocked out. Curly's off as soon as he can start for
Tellurium. That leaves you and Pete to look after the ranch. I may be
gone some time."

"But you can't rope him alone!" protested Farrish.

"I don't expect to. There isn't a horse in the Park that could
overtake him. He'll make for the San Luis, of course. I'll get help
there. Now then, Farrish, you're in charge of the ranch. If anything
should happen to me, Jim knows where all my papers are. That's all."

Farrish hastened to saddle Trixy, coiling a rope at the saddle horn,
and strapping a slicker behind the saddle. At this moment came Pete
from the cottage, bringing the revolver and cartridge belt, which Haig
buckled on while Farrish led Trixy out in front of the stable.

There was a word or two more to Farrish, about the cattle and the hay,
and Haig swung himself into the saddle.

"Wait!" cried Pete, running out of the stable.

He handed a flask of whisky to Haig, who took it, smiling, and thrust
it into a pocket of his coat.

"Sure cure for everything, eh, Pete?"

But he reached down, and clasped Pete's hand.

"You will be cold, maybe," said the Indian simply.

"All right, men!" said Haig. "You'll take good care of Craven, of
course. And you'll use your best judgment about everything, Farrish.
I'm not coming back without Sunnysides."

He put spurs to the little bay mare, and dashed away. Pete and Farrish
stood watching him until he had turned the point of