If Ed Bingham found this difficult under the circumstances, he managed to give his face the proper expression for registering forgetfulness as long as Bud remained in the store and that sufficed. He had his opportunity to express as freely as he wished his real opinions after Bud cantered off. He made the most of that. As far as Bud was concerned, he might, and be hanged. What was spoken to his face was one thing; what was spoken behind his back another and relatively unimportant matter. Bud returned to his shack through the pouring rain, carefully protecting his purchases beneath a rubber poncho. Never had he minded less a wet ride, for the little mare’s hoofs sang him a song all the way--a simple song with not much variety, but, to his ears, good to hear. It was merely this: “Roxie, Roxie, Roxie.” It ran through his head all the remainder of that day and mixed itself with his restless dreams. It roused him at dawn and was echoed in the twitter of the morning birds greeting so joyously the clear sky. He rose at once with the realization that this morning had a significance of its own; it was the last he would have to face by himself. To-night he was to find Roxie and fetch her up here. That made it seem almost as though she were here now. He washed with considerable attention to details and slicked down his black hair until it lay plastered to his head. Bud was confident. That was characteristic of his attitude towards any personal venture he undertook alone. It was doubly true of this one in which he was prepared to risk all in order to gain all. He saw no obstacles in his path; could conceive of none which might stop him. His plan was well outlined and simple; he would ride to the Howe shack after dark and leave his horse in the road just below. Then he would circle the house and post himself near the kitchen door in the rear. There he would wait his chance to see Roxie alone. He would not need over five minutes with her because this time he held all the cards. When he was done, she would follow him. No fear about that. She might come like a colt for the first time in halter, but she would come. It mattered little what her temper was at the start. She would tame. Towards dusk Bud went through the shack once again and put everything in order. Then he took out his gun and examined it to make sure each chamber was loaded. Finally he piled up fresh wood and kindling beside the fireplace in order to have everything ready for a quick blaze. On the table he placed a kerosene lamp and matches. At half-past seven he closed and locked his door and went to the barn for his mare. It was dark when Bud reached the valley, but he took the rest of the road on a gallop. There were those who later said they remembered hearing him pass. “Thought it must be some one after the doctor,” said one. Another thought it was some one loaded with moonshine whiskey. All were glad enough that the mysterious night rider in such a hurry went by without stopping.