had suggested, he probably did other
things up to the same standard. It would have been hard to fulfil his
promise to Drew under any circumstances with such a man as this; but
with Bard apparently forewarned and suspicious the thing became almost
impossible.

Almost, but not entirely so. He set himself calmly to the problem; on
the horn of his saddle the lariat hung loose; if the Easterner should
turn his back for a single instant during all the time they were
together old Drew should not be disappointed, and one thousand cash
would be deposited for the mutual interest of Sally Fortune and himself.
That is to say, if Sally would consent to become interested. To the
silent persuasion of money, however, Nash trusted many things.

The roan jogged sullenly ahead, giving all the strength of his gallant,
ugly body to the work; the piebald mustang pranced like a dancing master
beside and behind with a continual jingling of the tossed bridle.

The masters were to a degree like the horses they rode, for Nash kept
steadily leaning to the front, his bulldog jaw thrusting out; and Bard
was forever shifting in the saddle, settling his hat, humming a tune,
whistling, talking to the piebald, or asking idle questions of the
things they passed, like a boy starting out for a vacation. So they
reached the old house of which Nash had spoken--a mere, shapeless, black
heap huddling through the night.

In the shed to the rear they tied the horses and unsaddled. In the
single room of the shanty, afterward, Nash lighted a candle, which he
produced from his pack, placed it in the centre of the floor, and they
unrolled their blankets on the two bunks which were built against the
wall on either side of the narrow apartment.

Truly it was a crazy shack--such a building as two men, having the
materials at hand, might put together in a single day. It was hardly
based on a foundation, but rather set on the slope side of the hill, and
accordingly had settled down on the lower side toward the door. Not an
old place, but the wind had pried and the rain warped generous cracks
between the boards through which the rising storm whistled and sang and
through which the chill mist of the coming rain cut at them.

Now and then a feeling came to Anthony that the gale might lift the
tottering old shack and roll it on down the hillside to the floor of the
valley, for it rocked and swayed under the breath of the storm. In a way
it was as if the night was givin