ight be rather uncomfortable to meet
when one is tired and hungry and out of sorts. But of course the
crankiest of comedy cooks would be decently civil to _her_. Men always
were, except directors who are paid for their incivility.

A hollow into which she walked in complete darkness and in silence,
save the gurgling of another stream, hid from sight the shadowy
semblance of houses and barns and sheds. Their disappearance slumped
her spirits again, for without them she was no more than a solitary
speck in the vast loneliness. Their actual nearness could not comfort
her. She was seized with a reasonless, panicky fear that by the time
she crossed the stream and climbed the hill beyond they would no longer
be there where she had seen them. She was lifting her skirts to wade
the creek when the click of hoofs striking against rocks sent her
scurrying to cover in a senseless fear.

"I learned this act from the jack rabbits," she rallied herself
shakily, when she was safely hidden behind a sagebush whose pungency
made her horribly afraid that she might sneeze, which would be too
ridiculous.

"Some of dad's cowboys, probably, but still they _may_ be bandits."

If they were bandits they could scarcely be out banditting, for the two
horsemen were talking in ordinary, conversational tones as they rode
leisurely down to the ford. When they passed Lorraine, the horse
nearest her shied against the other and was sworn at parenthetically
for a fool. Against the skyline Lorraine saw the rider's form bulk
squatty and ungraceful, reminding her of an actor whom she knew and did
not like. It was that resemblance perhaps which held her quiet instead
of following her first impulse to speak to them and ask them to carry
her to the house.

The horses stopped with their forefeet in the water and drooped heads
to drink thirstily. The riders continued their conversation.

"--and as I says time and again, they ain't big enough to fight the
outfit, and the quicker they git out the less lead they'll carry under
their hides when they do go. What they want to try an' hang on for,
beats me. Why, it's like setting into a poker game with a five-cent
piece! They ain't got my sympathy. I ain't got any use for a damn
fool, no way yuh look at it."

"Well, there's the TJ--they been here a long while, and they ain't
packin' any lead, and they ain't getting out."

"Well, say, lemme tell yuh something. The TJ'll git theirs and git it
right