' me fetch the old brindle cow home."

"I'll help _you_ any time I can," he said.

"Thank ye," she held out her hand shyly. Jack Wade held it in his own,
pressing it tenderly, until she pulled it away from him.

"Good-by," she said softly.

"Good-by," he returned, and then turned to face the lonesome gloom.

CHAPTER II

As Jack Wade faced about to return to his own cabin he saw a lone
horseman coming up the road toward him, riding very rapidly, which was a
custom in the country. No one ever rode slowly.

Remembering the girl's remarks of warning, he concluded it the height of
wisdom to be seen as little as possible lurking around the vicinity, as
he was in the community for an avowed purpose and he must be very
cautious in order to fulfill his mission. He therefore stepped back into
the shadow of a friendly bush and allowed the horseman to gallop by
without discovering him. He turned and watched the rider, until he
entered the gate through which the girl had driven the cow a few moments
before. A sudden impulse seized him to creep back under the shadow of
the trees and learn what he might from the conversation which he could
now hear but faintly. This being a very dangerous proceeding, his mind
was changed. He did not feel that he was thoroughly enough acquainted
with the surroundings nor the people and their customs, and would take
no chances until he should know more clearly what he was about--until he
became more accustomed to everything and everybody.

The horseman he had seen was none other than Tom Judson, brother of the
girl he had assisted in locating the cow. Tom rode into the lot, jumped
from his horse in true Western style, threw the reins of his bridle over
the saddle-horn, rapped the horse over the hips with his gloves, and
walked on behind him to the barn. Nora was now milking the old brindle
cow, and her father was inside the barn putting feed into the trough for
the stock.

"Peers ye air mighty late git'n' yer milkin' done," said Tom. "What's
ther matter of ye?"

He tapped the girl upon the head with the finger end of his glove, and
he tapped her again because she made no immediate reply.

"Reckon I hain't no later git'n' hit done than ye are a git'n' home,
seein' as how I'm most done now," she replied.

"Milkin' a cow hain't nuthin' like takin' a day fer to ride over the
country a givin' warnin's."

"What ye warnin' 'bout now, Tom?" she asked, with much interest.

"Go 'long, gal