“Certainly is. You’d better send a telegram over to Argenta. Hughie High will be down there tonight for the mail.”
“Of course. I don’t understand what brought father back from the Rock so quickly. Was it anything to do with you?”
And now Johnny lied. “I’d hate to think so,” he told her.
Shrewd Molly was not more than half convinced of this.
“And the business that brought you here?” she inquired.
Apparently, a violent itching of the Dice scalp followed, but the girl insisted upon an answer.
“Er—private business,” Johnny said lamely; but to Molly it carried an air of mystery.
“Well, you meet me at the hotel about two. I wish father had stayed at the Rock another day.”
Johnny turned back to Dan’s place, but the old man had slipped out. So, left to himself, the boy promptly began to worry over Molly’s farewell words. It was plain enough that she had hoped to make her hurried trip without her father knowing of it. But what reason could she have for that? The question stayed with Mr. Dice. The girl was nervous. He could tell that. Coming to Winnemucca had always been something of a lark. Well, he had failed to find any spirit of vacation about her today. A blunt question or two would follow this afternoon!
Johnny had voiced his need of sleep, but now that he had the opportunity he made no effort to resign himself to it. For one thing, he wanted to think over that trip to the reservation. Western men did not go romping over the hills to Indian country for the thrill of going. It had been one of the dead man’s last acts; perhaps the one which had led to his death.