“I guess that’s the answer. There, I reckon that harness will take us as far as Athens, if we have a bit of luck. If you’ll bring out what you want to take, Mrs. Conrad, we’ll pack it in the wagon.”
“I’ve only a couple of suitcases. My trunks went by rail to the border—that is, they started.”
“How about you, Herrick? Afraid we can’t take the piano.”
Herrick looked up in some surprise. “Me?” he said. “I am not going with you, my friend.”
“Not going with us? But, Victor, you can’t stay here alone.” Mrs. Conrad’s voice had real solicitude in it.
“Why not? Li will return and you shall send him first to Conejo to buy provisions. When things settle down, my men will come back and we shall go to work again.”
“You’re going to stick by the ranch?” demanded Scott.
“It is my home. What else have I?” The little man’s voice was sad.
“Well, maybe you’re right,” said Scott, after a moment. “The best way to hang on to property just now is to sit down on it. We’ll send Li over to Conejo with the wagon and he can load up. If you get into trouble, remember you’ve got friends in this country.” And the two men shook hands heartily as Scott tramped off to the wagon.
Polly did not see the parting between the musician and Clara Conrad, but the latter looked, when she came out of the house, as though she had been crying, and the little man looked more pathetic than ever as he stood alone in the doorway waving them good-bye.