more of that, Bud. Boy's we're going to turn in,
and to-morrow we'll climb the hills looking for the two we've lost.
But there's something or some one after us. Lads, I'm thinking our
good days are over. The seven of us have been too many for a small
posse and too fast for a big one, but the seven are down to four. The
good days are over."

And the three answered in a solemn chorus: "The good days are over."

All eyes fixed on Pierre, and his glance was settled on the floor.

The morning brought them no better cheer, for Jack, whose singing
generally wakened them, was not to be coaxed into speech, and when
Pierre entered the room she rose and left the breakfast-table. The sad
eyes of Jim Boone followed her and then turned to Pierre. No
explanation was forthcoming, and he asked for none. The old fatalist
had accepted the worst, and now he waited for doom to descend.

They took their horses after breakfast and rode out to search the
hills, for it was quite possible that an accident had crippled at least
one of the two lost men, either Patterson or Branch. Not a gully
within miles was left unsearched, but toward evening they rode back,
one by one, with no tidings.

One by one they rode up, and whistled to announce their coming, and
then rode on to the stable to unsaddle their horses. About the supper
table all gathered with the exception of Bud Mansie. So they waited
the meal and each from time to time stole a glance at the fifth plate
where Bud should sit.

It was Jack who finally stirred herself from her dumb gloom to take up
that fifth and carry it out of the room. It was as if she had
announced the death of Mansie.

After that, they ate what they could and then went back around the
fire. The evening waned, but it brought no sign of any of the missing
three. The wood burned low in the fire. The first to break the long
silence was Jim Boone, with "Who brings in the wood?"

And Black Gandil answered: "We'll match, eh?"

In an outburst of energy the day before he disappeared Garry Patterson
had chopped up some wood and left a pile of it at the corner of the
house. It was a very little thing to bring in an armful of that wood,
but long-riders do not love work, and now they started the matching
seriously. The odd man was out, and Pierre went out on the first toss
of the coins.

"You see," said Gandil. "Bad luck to every one but himself."

At the next throw Jacqueline was the lucky one, and her