“Oh, Buck! There’s a phrase I noticed in that rather lurid magazine Bud brought me two or three weeks ago.” Her eyes twinkled. “‘Cave-man stuff,’ I think it was.” Coming from her lips the words had 348 an oddly bizarre sound. “It seemed descriptive. Of course one would want to use refinements.”
“I get you!” Stratton grinned as he departed.
His head had scarcely passed the window before the inner door opened and Mary Thorne appeared.
Her face was pale, with deep shadows under the eyes, and her slim, girlish figure drooped listlessly. She walked slowly over to the table, took up a book, fluttered the pages, and laid it down again. Then a pile of mail caught her eyes, and picking up the topmost letter, she tore it open and glanced through it indifferently.
“From Stella,” she commented aloud, dropping it on the table. “They got home all right. She says she had a wonderful time, and asks after—”
“After me, I suppose,” said Mrs. Archer, as Mary paused. “Give her my love when you write.” She hesitated, glancing shrewdly at the girl. “Don’t you want to hear the news, dear?” she asked.
Mary turned abruptly, her eyes widening with sudden interest. “News? What news?”
“Why, about everything that’s happened. They caught all of the men except that wretch, Pedro. The sheriff’s taken them to Perilla for trial. He says they’ll surely be convicted. Better yet, one of them has turned State’s evidence and implicated a swindler named Draper, who was at the bottom of everything.”
“Everything?” repeated the girl in a slightly puzzled 349 tone, as she dropped listlessly into a chair beside her aunt. “What do you mean, dear, by—everything?”
“How dull I am!” exclaimed Mrs. Archer. “I hope that isn’t another sign of encroaching age. I quite forgot you hadn’t heard what it was all about. It seems there’s oil in the north pasture. Lynch found it and told this man Draper, and ever since then they’ve been trying to force you to sell the ranch so they could gobble it up themselves.”