g, dad," she called in to her father. "I just heard
something down by the gate."

She could save a few minutes, she thought, by running down to the
corral where Frank would probably stop and unload the few sacks of
grain he was bringing, before he drove up to the house. Frank was very
methodical in a fussy, purposeless way, she had observed. Twice he had
driven to Echo since her father had been hurt, and each time he had
stopped at the corral on his way to the house. So she closed the
screen door behind her, careful that it should not slam, and ran down
the path in the heavy dusk wherein crickets were rasping a strident
chorus.

"Oh! It's you, is it, Lone?" she exclaimed, when she neared the vague
figure of a man unsaddling a horse. "You didn't see Frank coming
anywhere, did you? Dad won't have his supper until Frank comes with
the things I sent for. He's late."

Lone was lifting the saddle off the back of John Doe, which he had
bought from the Sawtooth because he was fond of the horse. He
hesitated and replaced the saddle, pulling the blanket straight under
it.

"I saw him coming an hour ago," he said. "I was back up on the ridge,
and I saw a team turn into the Quirt trail from the ford. It couldn't
be anybody but Frank. I'll ride out and meet him."

He was mounted and gone before she realised that he was ready. She
heard the sharp staccato of John Doe's hoofbeats and wondered why Lone
had not waited for another word from her. It was as if she had told
him that Frank was in some terrible danger,--yet she had merely
complained that he was late. The bunk-house door opened, and Sorry
came out on the doorstep, stood there a minute and came slowly to meet
her as she retraced her steps to the house.

"Where'd Lone go so sudden?" he asked, when she came close to him in
the dusk. "That was him, wasn't it?"

Lorraine stopped and stood looking at him without speaking. A vague
terror had seized her. She wanted to scream, and yet she could think
of nothing to scream over. It was Lone's haste, she told herself
impatiently. Her nerves were ragged from nursing her dad and from
worrying over things she must not talk about,--that forbidden subject
which never left her mind for long.

"Wasn't that him?" Sorry repeated uneasily. "What took him off again
in such a rush?"

"Oh, I don't know! He said Frank should have been here long ago. He
went to look for him. Sorry," she cried suddenly, "what _is_ the