"No, _no,_ little gal," I answers, and got to my feet byside the bed. "Not me, honey!" She only just turned and opened the door. "I don't wonder the rest of you ain't got nothin' t' say," she says. "Why, I ain't never _heerd_ of anythin' so--so low." And haid down, and sobbin', she went out. I tried t' foller, but my laigs was sorta wobbley. I got just a step 'r two, and put a' arm on Billy's shoulder. The boys went out then, too, not sayin' a word, but lookin' some sneaky. "Bring her back," I called after 'em. "Aw, I've hurt my pore little gal!" I started t' walk again, leanin' on the doc. "Boys!----" Next thing, over I flopped into Billy's arms. * * * * * When I come to, a little later on, here was Billy settin' byside me, a' awful sober look on his face. "Billy," I says to him, "where is she?" "Cupid--don't take it hard, ole man--she's--she's gone. Boarded the East-bound not half a' hour ago. But, pardner----" Gone! I didn't answer him. I just rolled over onto my face. CHAPTER EIGHT ANOTHER SCHEME, AND HOW IT PANNED OUT WAL, pore ole Sewell! _I_ wasn't feelin' dandy them days, you'd better believe. But, Sewell, he took Macie's goin' _turrible_ bad. Whenever he come in town, he was allus just as _qui-i-et_. Not a cheep about the little gal; wouldn't 'a' laughed fer a nickel; and never'd go anywheres nigh the lunch-counter. Then, he begun t' git peakeder'n the dickens, and his eyes looked as big as saucers, and bloodshot. Pore ole boss! I kept outen his way. He'd heerd all about that Shackleton business, y' savvy, and was awful down on me; helt me _re_sponsible fer the hull thing, and tole the boys he never wanted t' set eyes on me again. Hairoil went to him and said I'd been jobbed, and was innocenter'n Mary's little lamb. But Sewell wouldn't listen even, and said I'd done him dirt. A-course, I couldn't go back t' my Bar Y job, then,--and me plumb crazy t' git to work and make enough t' go to Noo York on! But I didn't do no mournin'; I kept a stiff upper lip. "Cupid," I says to myself, "allus remember that the gal that's hard t' ketch is the best kind when oncet you've got her." And I sit down and writ the foreman of the Mulhall outfit. (By now, my arm was all healed up fine.) Wal, when I went over to the post-office a little bit later on, the post-master tole me that Sewell'd just got a letter from Macie!--but it hadn't seemed t' chirp the ole man up any. And they was one fer Mrs. Trowbridge, too, he says; did I want to look at it? "I don't mind," I answers. It was from her--I'd know her little dinky l's _anywheres_. I helt it fer a minute--'twixt my two hands. It was like I had her fingers, kinda. Then, "S'pose they ain't nothin' fer me t'day," I says. "No, Cupid,--sorry. Next time, I reckon." "Wal," I goes on "would you mind lettin' me take this over t' Rose?" "Why, no,--go ahaid." I went, quick as ever my laigs could carry me, the letter tucked inside my shirt.