in the young adventurer's mind of the issue between him and Findlay; he could admit no possibility of disastrous conclusion to himself. This doubtless was only desire, stressed so long and passionately as to assume the deceptive face of truth, a phantom that has led many a brave man to a bitter end.
There was considerable activity at Cattle Kate's hotel when they arrived shortly after dusk, that being the biggest night of the week for the institutions of Bonita. Fred Grubb marched into the dining-room with his shotgun under his arm, easy and unconcerned, but his quick eye explored the face of every man in the room before he had gone a dozen feet. Cattle Kate looked on the strange weapon with unfriendly eye as she waited the coming of the three men at the table she had chosen for them.
Kate seemed to be out of humor. She had only a ghost of a smile for Dan when she shook hands with him. To Barrett her face appeared whiter than before, with a wan worriment about her mouth.
"You been rabbit-huntin', Fred?" she inquired, as the poet disposed the gun carefully beside his chair on the floor.
"Wolves," Fred replied shortly, his eye on the door.
Kate employed an Indian girl from the mission school to help her serve her guests, but she elected to wait on the three friends herself. It was the custom of that country in those times to serve everything at once, the pie coming on with the potatoes. Kate was silent as she spread the dishes of food, shaking her head or nodding in reply to Dan's attempts at conversation.
