and Hiram's. I wonder what's
the matter with Jo."

"Huh!" snickered Drummond. "The package we handed her is enough to
make anybody sick! But I don't just like the way things look, either.
By golly, aren't we to know where we stand until Jo gets well!"

Three of the wagons and trailers groaned on through the town toward
Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One, while the fourth--Heine
Schultz driving--entered the alley to reach the rear of Huber's store.
Twenty minutes later Schultz suddenly presented himself at the shooting
gallery.

"Howdy," he greeted Al and Lucy, touching the broad brim of his hat
with a forefinger. "Jo's sick. I guess you've heard."

"Yes, so some one said," Lucy smiled amiably at the dusty skinner.
"Isn't it too bad! What seems to be wrong, Heine?"

"Bad cold--settled in her lungs," replied Heine briefly. "Er--now--Jo
told me to ask you somethin', miss. Either you or Drummond, she said.
I don't know what it's about. She just said: 'Go see Drummond or Lucy
when you get in and ask them their terms and let me know what they say
when you get back to Julia.'"

Drummond darted a quick, triumphant glance at the girl.

"Oh, yes," she said lightly to the skinner, "I know what she refers to.
Why, just tell her, 'Half,' Heine. That's all you need to say; she'll
understand."

"Gotcha," said Heine, and lounged away, rolling a brown paper cigarette.

The outfit started back again early next morning; and eight days later
it returned, still minus its two important figures. Again Heine
Schultz rested his bony elbows on the carpeted counter of the shooting
gallery, and spoke to Lucy, who this time was alone.

"About that business between you folks and Jo," he said, indolently
filling a cigarette paper.

"Yes?" eagerly returned Lucy.

"Jo says tell you, 'Half is too much.'"

"Oh! She--she's still ill?"

Heine, shook his head sadly and tapped his chest. "Can't hardly hear
her talk," he said. "It's fierce. Wild Cat's scared stiff about it.
Well, what'll I tell 'er, Miss Lucy?"

"I'll have to see Al before giving you an answer," she told him.
"Can't you drop around after supper, Heine?"

"Sure. I'm on the water wagon, though," he added blandly, with no
suggestion of a deep meaning in his tones.

An hour afterward Drummond met Heine on the street and handed him a
sealed envelope. "Give that to Jerkline Jo," he commanded shortly.

"Gotcha!" drawled Heine, and slouched on up the s