“Oh, you must take it—you must!” she protested, the choke of rising emotion in her tone. “I wish it was more. There’s only two dollars and thirty-five cents.” His voice failed huskily. He stood looking at her a moment, as though he would have said more; then, without a word, shook his head, turned, and his foot was in the stirrup. The realization that this was good-by reached its climax in Hilda’s heart. He was really going away. Like a big, black, engulfing wave rolled over her the thought of the time coming when there would be no Pearse to talk to or read with, to feed or care for; no delicious hiding and intriguing enterprises—nothing but the round of ranch and school life. Blindly, she caught at his sleeve. “Oh, don’t! Don’t go! Come back in the house.” A whirlwind of sobs shook the slim figure, and Pearse hastily, awkwardly, put his arm about her to steady her. “Let’s tell Uncle Hank!” she gasped. “He’ll explain to the sheriff and those men. He can. You’d better stay here, Pearse.” She looked up into his face in the dimness, and knew, before he spoke, that he was going to refuse. “Hilda—I can’t. If I’d known he was manager here, I’d never have come in the first place. I told you that. If ever I see you again— Oh, say, Hilda! don’t cry so. I just can’t stand to see you feel so badly.” She dried her eyes with piteous eagerness and strangled the sobs that still shook her. “Goo-good-by, Pearse. Good-by—and good luck,” she achieved without a break. “You’ve got it all clear in your mind about the trail?” “All clear. Good-by,” answered the boy hoarsely. And, not venturing another look at her, he rode away. CHAPTER XV NO QUESTIONS ASKED Hilda stood there, chilled and shivering, and listened to the sound of his horse’s hoofs, cautious and slow at first, breaking into a canter further away and dying out in the night air. He was gone, leaving her utterly bereft. For, in the presence of the living Pearse himself The Boy-On-The-Train had at once shrunk and faded to a vain shadow—oh, no, she could never call that up again. She had lost them both. She turned stumblingly toward the house. Halfway there, blinded by her tears, she walked almost into Uncle Hank! “Pettie!” he said. “Why, Pettie—it’s you?”