Strunk's pack-horse loaded with thirty dozen pairs of socks and fourteen cooked shirts! Clarence Strunk, boss of the L.X. outfit."
Mr. Strunk's starched bosom crackled as he smote his chest. "That's me! M'uncle's dead."
They separated in the cañon, Ben and Edith to go on their way, and Nan and Bob to return to Hopedale.
"Good-by, Ben." Bob heard the catch in Nan's voice, and he turned his horse from their leave-taking, but not too soon to see Ben take her hand in both of his and raise it to his lips.
They rode in silence the greater part of the way to Hopedale, Bob absorbed in thought and Nan tongue-tied with a new feeling of shyness. Below the town they stopped to let their horses drink, and to walk a bit themselves.
"Our last ride together. Nan," said Bob, staring absently at the stream which had not yet cleared itself.
Nan felt her heart jump, and her voice was startled when she repeated:
