over--he's back--" Bud could scarcely speak. His throat was
parched. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead.

"What!" cried Polly joyfully. "Is Jack with him?"

"Listen here," exclaimed the young wooer. "Slim's heard about our
goin' to get married, and he's sworn to shoot me at sight--" It was a
lame, halting explanation, but the best Bud could invent on the spur of
the moment. He wanted to get away to have time to think.

"I don't believe it!" replied Polly indignantly. "Why, Slim--"

In his excitement Bud would not let her continue her defense of the
Sheriff.

"It's so. He's plum locoed. The sun mus' have tetched his brains out
in the desert," he explained, with rapid invention. "I don't want no
run-in with a crazy man. I might have to shoot, an' Slim's been a good
fr'en' of mine. So I'm going to keep out of his way for a while. I'll
ride over to the railroad."

Polly could not comprehend this strange behavior of Bud. Thinking to
make him tell her his trouble by taunting him with cowardice, she asked:

"Say, look here, are you scared of Slim Hoover? Just let me handle
him."

"No, no," expostulated Bud. "Can't you understand? We've been such
good friends and--and--I can't pull a gun on him--"

Polly was speechless with surprise.

"Here he comes now," shouted Bud. "I'll hide in the wagon here--"

"Don't hide!" counseled Polly. "Why?"

Bud gave her no answer, for he had already disappeared under the cover
of the mess-wagon.

"I don't like that a little bit. Slim never acted locoed before. I'll
have to be mighty careful, I s'pose, for I think a heap of both Slim
and Bud."

Slim came up to the wagon with his face wreathed in smiles. "If it
ain't Miss Polly--" he yelled.

Polly, having heard that crazy people had to be humored, ran to meet
him, and threw her arms about his neck.

"You dear, sweet, old red-headed thing!" she cried; "when did you get
back? Where have you been? Where's Jack? Have you seen Echo?" One
question was piled upon the other by the enthusiastic girl--Slim had
tried to stop her talking that he might answer her, but he might as
well have tried to check a sand-storm. Out of breath and puffing, he
finally gasped:

"Whoa! whoa! Yes'm. I've heard of them Kansas cyclones, but I ain't
never got hit with one afore."

Polly started all over again. "And Jack, did you find him?--tell me
all about it."

"See yeah," answered Slim, "I ain't goin' to say nuthi