ur Uncle
Bud?"

"Of course." And she came to them.

They walked to the cabin. Bondsman did not follow. He had had a hard
play, and was willing to rest.

Dorothy drew up the piano stool and touched the keys. Bud sank into his
big chair. Bronson stood in the doorway. By some happy chance Dorothy
played Bud's beloved "Annie Laurie."

When she had finished, Bud blew his nose sonorously. "I know that tune,"
he said, gazing at Dorothy in a sort of huge wonderment. "But I never
knowed all that you made it say."

He rose and shuffled to the doorway, stopping abruptly as he saw
Bondsman. Could it be possible that Bondsman had not recognized his own
tune? Bud shook his head. There was something wrong somewhere. Bondsman
had not offered to come in and accompany the pianist. He must have been
asleep. But Bondsman had not been asleep. He rose and padded to Shoop's
horse, where he stood, a statue of rugged patience, waiting for Shoop to
start back toward home.

"Now, look at that!" exclaimed Bud. "He's tellin' me if I want to get
back to Jason in time to catch the stage to-morrow mornin' I got to
hustle. That there dog bosses me around somethin' scandalous."

When Shoop had gone, Dorothy turned to her father. "Mr. Shoop didn't ask
me to play very much. He seemed in a hurry."

"That's all right, Peter Pan. He liked your playing. But he has a very
important matter to attend to."

"He's really just delicious, isn't he?"

"If you like that word, Peter. He is big and sincere and kind."

"Oh, so were some of the saints for that matter," said Dorothy, making a
humorous mouth at her father.

Chapter XXIII

_Like One Who Sleeps_

Bondsman sat in the doorway of the supervisor's office, gazing
dejectedly at the store across the street. He knew that his master had
gone to St. Johns and would go to Stacey. He had been told all about
that, and had followed Shoop to the automobile stage, where it stood,
sand-scarred, muddy, and ragged as to tires, in front of the
post-office. Bondsman had watched the driver rope the lean mail bags to
the running-board, crank up the sturdy old road warrior of the desert,
and step in beside the supervisor. There had been no other passengers.
And while Shoop had told Bondsman that he would be away some little
time, Bondsman would have known it without the telling. His master had
worn a coat--a black coat--and a new black Stetson. Moreover, he had
donned a white shirt and a narrow hint of a c