"Lorry and the sheriff had a little argument. Lorry didn't wait to
finish it. It was something about that hobo that bothered you
yesterday."

Alice crushed her handkerchief to her mouth. "I--shall we get ready for
dinner?" she stammered.

Mrs. Weston rose. "It's nothing serious, I hope. Do you think your--Mr.
Adams will be back to-night?"

"Not this evening," replied Waring.

"You mean that he won't be back at all?"

"Not unless he changes his mind. He's riding my horse."

"He took your horse?"

"Yes. I think he made a mistake in leaving so suddenly, but he didn't
make any mistake about the best horse."

"Aren't you worried about him?" queried Mrs. Weston.

"Why, no. The boy will take care of himself. Did you happen to notice
what he had in his hand when he ran across the veranda?"

"No. It happened so suddenly. Was it a pistol?"

Waring grinned. "No. It was a shoulder of lamb. The next town is thirty