"And you sent him——"
"We thought," explained Mabel, balancing unsteadily on the only foot for which she had been able to find a shoe, "that he was the game warden."
"Game warden!" gasped Mr. Black. "Do you mean to say that you meant to send him seventeen miles from Barclay's?"
The guilty little girls accomplished the difficult feat of nodding and hanging their heads at the same time.
"In all that mud!" groaned Saunders, "and on that awful saddle!"
"We," faltered Henrietta, whose red blanket was most becoming to her sparkling brunette countenance, "we didn't want the game warden to find out about Dave."
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mr. Black. "That reminds me. Dave is in Lakeville, Saunders is here—he brought up an important paper for me to sign. With Saunders gone, Dave won't know what to do about the doctor. He may start back."
"Not if there's anything drinkable left in Lakeville," assured Saunders. "I know mighty well where I'll find him. But I can't go back to-night—I'm not accustomed to riding, and I've been on that poor old nag all day."
"I'll fix a bed for you in my tent," said Mr. Black. "There's plenty of room."
"I'm awfully sorry for what we did," mumbled Henrietta, contritely, "but we did mistake you for that dreadful game warden."