"Say!" said Dan, too greatly astonished for another word.
Barrett's sensation was far apart from surprise. It was more of a sinking of the heart such as weakens a man when he hears of a sore and heavy loss. He had not believed Alma would do this, readily as he had gone into the planning of it with her only a day before. It seemed to Barrett, sitting there on his horse stupidly gazing after her, that Alma was not alone riding away with Dale Findlay, but that she was riding away from him. What if she cared for the man, what if she had jumped at this pretext—absurd, foolish, he said, abusing himself for harboring the thought. Alma was doing only what she believed to be the best, but they had played with fire in a haystack, like the two foolish children they were, when they plotted that thing.
"Say!" said Dan Gustin again, "he's lookin' up in the world, ain't he? I never thought she'd be caught dead with that man."
"That little lady of mine!" Fred Grubb lamented. "Do you reckon they're workin' her into their sink-hole that's suckin' Hal Nearing down to hell and damnation?"
"No!" Barrett declared sharply. "She's only ridin' with him, just as any lady rides out with a groom."
"That's what they call a horse wrangler in high society. I've heard of them groomers," said Fred.
"Sure," Barrett returned, lighter in word than in heart.
The three of them had turned as if to follow the pair they had given passage through their line. They sat
