“It is awful, dear,” she said. “But they can’t kill him! They can’t hurt him, so don’t you care. Come on to bed–I have so much to talk about! Don’t put your hair up to-night, Helen–let’s go right to bed!”
Helen impulsively kissed her and pushed her away, her face flushed.
“You dear, silly goose, do you think I am worrying about him? Why, I had forgotten him. I’m thinking about James.”
“Yes, of course you are,” laughed Miss Ritchie. “I was only teasing you, dear. But it is too bad that nobody cares anything about him, isn’t it, Helen?”
Tears trembled in Helen’s eyes and she turned quickly toward the bed. “Well, it’s his own fault–oh, don’t talk to me, Grace! Poor James, all alone out there on that awful plain! I’m just as blue as I can be, so there!”
“Have a good, long cry, dear,” suggested Miss Ritchie. “It does one so much good,” she added as she stepped before the mirror. “But I think he is just as splendid as he can be–I wish I was a man like him!”
And while they played at pretending, the man who was uppermost in their thoughts was playing a joke on the sheriff at the Cross Bar-8 which would open that person’s eyes wide in the morning.
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On the ranch the darkness was intense and no sounds save the natural noises of the night could be heard. The sky was overcast with clouds and occasionally a drop of rain fell. The haunting wail of a distant coyote quavered down the wind and the cattle in the corral were restless and uneasy. A mounted man suddenly topped a rise at a walk and then stopped to stare at the dim lights in the windows of the houses nearly a mile away. He laughed softly at the foolishness of the inmates trying to plot for his death by doing something they had not dared to do for a week. Who would be so foolish as to ride up to those lighted windows unless he was a tenderfoot?
Leaping lightly to the grass, he hobbled his horse and then took a bundle from his saddle, which he strapped on his back and then went quietly forward on foot, peering intently into the darkness before him. Soon he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled cautiously and without a sound. After covering several hundred yards in this manner he dropped to his stomach and wriggled forward, his eyes strained for dangers. A quarter of an hour elapsed, and then he heard a sneeze, muffled and indistinct, but still a sneeze. Avoiding the place from whence it came, he made a wide detour and finally stopped, chuckling silently. Untying the bundle he removed it from his back and placed it upon a pile of sand, which he heaped up for the purpose, and, printing his name in the sand at its base, retreated as he had come and without mishap. After searching for a quarter of an hour for his horse he finally found it, removed the hobbles and vaulted to the saddle. Wheeling, he rode off at a walk, soon changing to a canter, in the direction of the Limping Water. When he had gained it he chanced the danger of quicksands and rode north along the middle of the stream. If he was to be followed, the probability was that his pursuers would ride south to find where he had left the water; and they must be delayed as long as possible.