She went to the stable with Val, her apron thrown over her head for want of a hat. “When Val was settling herself in the seat, Arline caught at the wheel.
“Say! How'n time you goin' to git your trunks loaded into the wagon?” she cried. “You can't do it alone.” Val parsed her lips; she had not thought of that.
“But Polycarp will come, by the time I am ready,” she decided. “You couldn't keep him away, Arline; he would be afraid he might miss something, because I suppose ours is the only ranch in the country where the wheels aren't turning smoothly. Polycarp and I can manage.”
Hank, grinning under his ragged, brown mustache, handed her the lines. “I've got my orders,” he told her briefly. “I'll watch out the trail's kept clear.”
“Oh, thank you. I've so many good friends,” Val answered, giving him a smile to stir his sluggish blood. “Good-bye, Arline. Don't worry about me, there's a dear. I shall not be back before to-morrow night, probably.”
Both Arline and Hank stood where they were and watched her out of sight before they turned back to the sordid tasks which made up their lives.
“She'll make it—she's the proper stuff,” Hank remarked, and lighted his pipe. Arline, for a wonder, sighed and said nothing.
CHAPTER XXIII. CAUGHT!
After two nights and a day of torment unbearable, Kent bolted from his work, which would have taken him that day, as it had done the day before, in a direction opposite to that which his mind and his heart followed, and without apology or explanation to his foreman rode straight to Cold Spring Coulee. He had no very definite plan, except to see Val. He did not even know what he would say when he faced her.