day that she confessed what she had done to Hervey. Certainly he had
done more than his share in his effort to get back the Coles horses and
she had no wish to needlessly hurt his feelings by letting him know that
the business was to be taken out of his hands and given into those of a
more efficient worker. But Hervey surprised her by the complaisance with
which he heard the tidings.

"Never in my life hung out a shingle as a hoss-catcher," he assured her.
"He's welcome to the job. Me and the boys won't envy him none. It'll be
a long trail and a tolerable lonely one, most like."

After that she settled down to wait with as great a feeling of security
as though the mares were already safely back in the corral. If he came,
the death-warrant of Alcatraz was as good as signed. But when the third
day of waiting ended without bringing Shorty and Perris, as it should
have done, the "if" began to assume greater proportions, and by late
afternoon of the fourth day she had made up her mind that Perris was
gone from Glosterville and that Shorty was on a wild goose chase after
him. So great was her gloom that even her father, usually blind to all
emotions around him, delayed a moment after he had been helped into his
buckboard and stared thoughtfully down at her.

The habit had grown on Oliver Jordan of late. When the westering sun
lost most of its heat and threw slant shadows and a yellow light over
the mountains, Oliver would have a pair of ancient greys, patient as
burros and hardly faster, hitched to a buckboard and then drive off into
the evening and perhaps, long after the dinner hour. Only foul weather
kept him in from these lonely jaunts on which he never took a companion.
To Marianne they were a never-ending source of wonder and sorrow, for
she saw her father slowly withdrawing himself from the life about him