Having finished, and there being still no sign of Mrs. Langdon, she ran upstairs and tapped upon her door. There was no reply. Nettie opened the door and looked in. The room was empty and the wide-open closet door revealed the fact that it had been stripped.
A wave of fear swept over the girl; she ran panting downstairs and out into the barnyard. Not a "hand" was about, though far across the pastures she could see the fence riders riding toward the ranch, their day's work done. Jake, driving in the six milk cows, came over the crest of the hill and loped slowly down to the barnyard, stopping to water his horse. He did not see Nettie at first waiting for him at the cowshed and when he did began to jabber without dismounting. One by one the cows went into their stalls and stood, bags full, patiently waiting to be milked. Jake, full of his news, dismounted. He had a pronounced impediment in his speech and when excited became almost unintelligible.
"Mis' Langdon—her gone off—off—off——" He pointed vividly toward the mountains. "Rode on nortermobile to a station. Goin' far away on train—choo-choo—coo!"
Nettie stared at him blankly. She could barely understand the bare fact that her mistress was gone and in her anxiety she plied the boy with questions.
"Where had she gone? When? Who had gone with her? Why did she go? What had she taken? How long was she to be gone?"
As desperately she shook the half-breed's ragged sleeve in her impatience to make him understand her the honk of an automobile horn caused her to look toward the garage and there she saw the Bull backing in the car. She hurried across the barnyard, her fear of the man forgotten in her intense anxiety about her mistress.
In his characteristic pose at the wide door of the garage he awaited her approach.
"Is—is it true that Mrs. Langdon has gone away?"
"Yep. Just taken her to the station. Gone up to Banff."