“Do you see that big timber grove ’way off there—where the crick doubles to the north—with that big green patch beyond?” She nodded. “That’s Taylor’s ranch—the Arrow. You’ll find him there. He’s a mighty fine man, ma’am. Larry Harlan would tell you that if he was here. Taylor was the best friend that Larry Harlan ever had—out here.” He looked at her pityingly. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to be the bearer of ill news; but when I heard you was in town, lookin’ for your father, I couldn’t help comin’ to see you.”
She asked some questions about her father—which Mullarky answered; though he could tell her nothing that would acquaint her with the details of her father’s life between the time he had left Westwood and the day of his appearance in this section of the world.
“Mebbe Taylor will know, ma’am,” he repeated again and again. And then, when she thanked him once more and mounted her horse, he said:
“You’ll be goin’ to see Squint right away, ma’am, I suppose. You can ease your horse right down the slope, here, an’ strike the level. You’ll find a trail right down there. You’ll follow it along the crick, an’ it’ll take you into the Arrow ranchhouse. It’ll take you past me own shack, too; an’ if you’ll stop in an’ tell the ol’ woman who you are, she’ll be tickled to give you a snack an’ a cup of tea. She liked Larry herself.”
The girl watched Mullarky ride away. He turned in the saddle, at intervals, to grin at her.
Then, when Mullarky had gone she leaned against Billy and stood for a long time, her shoulders quivering.
At last, though, she mounted the little animal and sent him down the slope.
She found the trail about which Mullarky had spoken, and rode it steadily; though she saw little of the wild, virgin country through which she passed, because her brimming eyes blurred it all.
She came at last to Mullarky’s shack, and a stout, motherly woman, with an ample bosom and a kindly face, welcomed her.
“So you’re Larry Harlan’s daughter,” said Mrs. Mullarky, when her insistence had brought the girl inside the cabin; “you poor darlin’. An’ Ben told you—the blunderin’ idiot. He’ll have a piece of my mind when he comes back! An’ you’re stoppin’ at the old Huggins house, eh?” She looked sharply at the girl, and the latter’s face reddened. Whereat Mrs. Mullarky patted her shoulder and murmured: