How long ago that seemed! She set her candle on the dresser and stared around the room. If only she wasn’t such a helpless little ninny!
“And I’m such a fool I wouldn’t know how to use a revolver if I had it,” thought the girl forlornly. “I don’t even know what I did with Dad’s.”
Then, of a sudden, her glance fell upon the cartridge-belt hanging on the wall, from whose pendant holster protruded the butt of an efficient-looking six-shooter—Stratton’s weapon, which, like everything else in the room, she had left religiously as she found it.
Stepping forward, she took hold of it gingerly and managed to draw it forth—a heavy, thirty-eight Colt, the barrel rust-pitted in a few places, but otherwise in excellent condition. She had no idea how to load it, but presently discovered by peering into the magazine that the shells seemed to be already in place. Then all at once her eyes filled and a choking little sob rose in her throat.
“Oh, if you were only here!” she whispered unevenly.
It would be hard to determine whether she was thinking of Stratton, that dreamlike hero of hers, whose tragic death she had felt so keenly, or of another man who was very much alive indeed. Perhaps she scarcely knew herself. At all events it was only a 294 momentary little breakdown. Pulling herself together, she returned to the living-room, carrying the big six-shooter half hidden by her skirts, and managed to slip it, apparently unseen, on a little stand above which hung the telephone to Las Vegas camp. By this time the water was boiling, and having made tea, she carried the pot back to the big table and sat down opposite Mrs. Archer.
For a minute or two she was busy with the cups and had no occasion to observe her aunt’s expression. Then, chancing to glance across the table, she was dismayed to find the older woman regarding her with searching scrutiny.
“Well?” questioned Mrs. Archer briefly. “What is it?”
Mary stared at her guiltily. “What’s—what?” she managed to parry.
“Why beat about the bush?” retorted her aunt. “Something’s happened to frighten you. I can see that perfectly well. You know how I detest being kept in the dark, so you may as well tell me at once.”