DURING the ride down to the ranch, after the probability of pursuit had passed and given place to a feeling of security, the question of why Alma Nearing had summoned him rose constantly in Barrett's mind. The answer evaded him still as he walked a little beat outside the gate with his pipe, waiting for her to come.
Something had happened to jangle woefully the serenity of that household between the day of his departure for Eagle Rock camp and the day of his return, Barrett could feel, rather than see. Mrs. Nearing was not herself; the fact that he was a horse wrangler in her husband's employ could not alone justify her strange behavior toward him when she knew he stood at her door. She was as one distracted by a great grief, a racking calamity. Her anxious inquiry for news of Nearing seemed to give an insight into the cause of her troubled state.
Had the thieves fallen out? Had Nearing gone on some expedition not countenanced by his partners in those dark transactions, for which his life might be forfeit? Or was it that his wife had become cognizant of his dishonesty at last? Even so, what could Alma
Alma, coming softly to keep her rendezvous, was almost beside him when he turned, wrapped in his brooding thoughts as though he walked in a fog. The long
