gun, missed from his holster when she stood beside him there a little while ago, the truth half guessed.
She bent low, holding the branches aside, the light of her match strong on her face. Barrett was not more than twenty feet from her, but unseen. She applied another match to the flickering spark of the first, pushing her search with little rustlings among the branches. Barrett hoped she would pass without discovering him.
A little while in that spot, and she gave over the search, turning to the cedars on the other side of the gate, close against which Barrett stood. When her next match flashed, held in the cup of her hand against the low breath of wind, she discovered him, and the weapon she sought hanging beside him on the fastenings of the gate.
Alma started, exclaiming softly in surprise. Her little flame, caught for a moment unshielded, was whipped out by the wind.
"I didn't know anybody was here," she said, in the senseless speech of confusion.
"I should not have been," Barrett returned, in confusion scarcely less than her own. "I guess I was moonstruck—on a cloudy night."
"You know what I came to look for."
"It's here," he said, "Senator Nearing asked me to hang it on the porch. He was tired carrying the weight of it."
She touched his arm when she reached to take the heavy belt and pistol; she ran her fingers along it, as one blind, until she found his hand. Firm and warm, friendly and assuring, was the pressure of her fingers
