Mackenzie broke off his story to remonstrate. "This won't do at all, Kate. If you're going to help find Luck, you've got to keep yourself fit. Now, you try this chicken, honey." "I--just can't, Uncle Mac." "But you need it." "I know," the girl confessed, and as she said it broke down again into soft weeping. Mac let her have her cry out, petting her awkwardly. Presently she dried her eyes, set at her supper in a businesslike way, heard the story to an end quietly, and volunteered one heartbroken comment. "As if father _could_ do such a thing." The cattleman agreed eagerly. There were times when he was full of doubt on that point, but he was not going to let her know it. Curly came into the room, and the girl rose to meet him. He took her little hand in his tanned, muscular one, and somehow from his grip she gathered strength. He would do all that could be done to find her father, just as he had done so much to save her brother. "I'm so glad you've come," she said simply. "I'm glad you're glad," he smiled cheerfully. He knew she had been crying, that she was suffering cruelly, but he offered her courage rather than maudlin sympathy. Hope seemed to flow through her veins at the meeting of the eyes. Whatever a man could do for her would be done by Curly. They talked the situation over together. "As it looks to me, we've got to find out two things--first, what has become of your father, and, second, who did steal that money." "Now you're talking," Mackenzie agreed. "I always did say you had a good head, Curly." "I don't see it yet, but there's some link between the two things. I mean between the robbery and his disappearance." "How do you mean?" Kate asked. "We'll say the robbers were his enemies--some of the Soapy Stone outfit maybe. They have got him out of the way to satisfy their grudge and to make people think he did it. Unfortunately there is evidence that makes it look as if he might have done it--what they call corroborating testimony." Billie Mackenzie scratched his gray poll. "Hold on, Curly. This notion of a link between the hold-up and Luck's leaving is what the other side is tying to. Don't we want to think different from them?" "We do. They think he is guilty. We know he isn't." "What does Sheriff Bolt think?" Curly waved the sheriff aside. "It don't matter what he thinks, Miss Kate. He _says_ he thinks Luck was mixed up in the hold-up. Maybe that's what he thinks, but we don't want to forget that Cass Fendrick made him sheriff and your father fought him to a fare-you-well." "Then we can't expect any help from him." "Not much. He ain't a bad fellow, Bolt ain't. He'll be square, but his notions are liable to be warped." "I'd like to talk with him," the young woman announced. "All right," Mackenzie assented. "To-morrow mo'ning----" "No, to-night, Uncle Mac."