"SHE'S RUN OFF WITH SLONE!"
Bostil could not have been shocked or hurt any more acutely by a knife-thrust. He glared at his sister.
"A-huh! So thet's the way you watch her!"
"Watch her? It wasn't possible. She's—well, she's as smart as you are.... Oh, I knew she'd do it! She was wild in love with him!"
Bostil strode out of the room and the house. He went through the grove and directly up the path to Slone's cabin. It was empty, just as Bostil expected to find it.
The bars of the corral were down. Both Slone's horses were gone. Presently Bostil saw the black horse Nagger down in Brackton's pasture.
There were riders in front of Brackton's. All spoke at once to Bostil, and he only yelled for Brackton. The old man came hurriedly out, alarmed.
"Where's this Slone?" demanded Bostil.
"Slone!" ejaculated Brackton. "I'm blessed if I know. Ain't he home?"
"No. An' he's left his black hoss in your field."