the signal down and dropped it on the ground. Rawlins thought that was hardly fair, but he did not remonstrate. He did not feel himself responsible for the outcome of Peck's adventure.
"We'll go up the hill and watch him," Tippie said.
It was rather a silly business, the way it had turned out, Rawlins thought. If Tippie's imagination had been kept in bounds to make the thing look a little more probable, Peck very likely would have kept on his way to Lost Cabin. Suppose, attended by the luck of a fool, Peck should go and come on the business he had undertaken? That would make him a champion in his own eyes; he would set himself up as a prince of valor in that country. He might even think, believing as he did that Edith had a hand in the plot to humiliate him, that he had overcome all obstacles in his way to her heart.
Peck might then claim the girl as the reward of his deed, and stick around until she would have to marry him to get rid of him. Rawlins was glad it wasn't his scheme.
Foolish, he said to himself, thinking of Edith, to write such warm letters to an empty-pated swain like Peck. The mail-order beau had a case. There wasn't a bit of doubt on that.
They pulled up at the top of the hill, where they waited concealed by the tall bushes.
"Look!" said Rawlins, rising in his stirrups, pointing. "There's that fence-rider!"
"Um-m-m," said Tippie. "He was layin' for us, watchin' all the time."
There was a note of satisfaction in the foreman's
