“Whar’s yore prisoner?” Budd yawned and reached for his pipe. “Guess you’ll find him sleepin’ behind the counter where I tied him.” A sarcastic rumble greeted this. “Yes we will! Of all the fool ideas! He shucked himself out o’ that rope and vamosed.” The storekeeper’s heavy lids drooped; he fumbled with his tobacco pouch and muttered, “Y’ don’t say!” Then he slid into his clothes and led the impromptu committee back to the storeroom. True enough, his bird had fled. The free end of the rope still was tied around a stove log, but the rest of it was slit in a dozen places. The cheese knife, which ordinarily rested on the counter, was stuck in the floor boards, mute witness of Bill’s manner of passage. Budd ruefully clucked his tongue. “Slick an’ clean. There’s a dum good six-dollar piece o’ rope made wuthless.” “Huh--you’re a sweet deppity! Should’ve let well enough alone last night! Now what’re you goin’ to do?” Budd picked up the knife and sliced himself a piece of the cheese. “Well, now, first I aim to eat. Then I aim to take care o’ the store. Then mebbe I’ll do a little figgerin’. Might even send word to Sher’ff McKenzie to keep a lookout at his end o’ the county. Come back later an’ I’ll tell you the rest.” “Meanwhile,” stated one of the committee, “he’s scootin’ with four hundred dollars of this man’s hard-earned money. Turrible!” They conferred among themselves, found Budd strangely imperturbable and went out, unsatisfied. The storekeeper cruised back and got his morning meal. As the day wore on he found part of his duty performed for him. The more determined of the landseekers organized a posse and galloped up the road toward Bend. Around noon they came back with nothing for their efforts. A few beat into the jack pines a half mile or so and returned empty-handed. Budd, standing on his porch, gave them a few choice words of advice. “Takes an experienced hand to find anything in the brush. Not much good in yore tactics.” They chose not to give up the pursuit and after dinner again scoured the road, this time to the south. Budd was not much interested in these movements. Such time as he spent on the porch was used to keep a shrewd watch over the girl and Sam. The latter had not elected to go with the posse, but at one point in the afternoon he picked up his gun and, seeming to have a plan of his own, marched directly into the pines and was lost for the best part of an hour. The girl, who had been idling around her wagon, watched him go and after a short interval vanished up the road. She was back in a little while, coming directly to the store. “Mr. Budd, this is dreadful! Do you suppose any one will find him? If they do, they’ll be sure to shoot.” “That’s the portion of thieves, ain’t it?” “But he’s not a thief!” Then she seemed to collect herself, and a color rose in her cheeks. “No, I don’t believe he did it. I don’t believe it.” “Thought you didn’t think so much of him?”