If he heard her at all Hardy made no response to the jest. He stood before her, swaying dizzily as he groped about for his hat, which had fallen from his hand. Then at last a faint smile broke through the drawn lines in his face. "That's right," he said, sinking down at her side, and as he settled back against the tree his eyes closed instantly, like a child whose bedtime has come. "I'm--I'm so dead tired I can't talk straight, Lucy--to say nothing of think. But--I'll take care of you. We aren't sheeped out yet. Only--only I can't--I forget what I'm going to say." His head fell forward as he spoke, his hands hung heavy, and he slipped slowly to the ground, fast asleep. After two days and nights of turmoil and passion his troubles were ended, suddenly; and as she raised him up Lucy Ware bent down quickly under cover of the dusk and kissed his rumpled hair. CHAPTER XVI THE DEPARTURE The gentle hand of sleep, which held Hardy in a grip that was akin to death, blotting out the past and dispelling all remembrance of his sorrows, failed utterly to abate the fighting spirit of Jefferson Creede or sap the Spartan grimness of his purpose. Worn by the destroying anger of the previous day, thwarted and apparently defeated, he rose up at the first glow of dawn and set about his preparations with an unemotional directness which augured ill for Jasper Swope. Before the sun was an hour high he had the town herd on the trail for Bender, entrusted to the care of Bill Lightfoot and several others of whom he wanted to be rid. The camp was dismantled, the packs were loaded upon the spare horses, and the outfit was ready to start for Carrizo Creek before breakfast was more than finished in the ranch house. After a final survey to make sure that nothing had been overlooked in the scuffle, the _rodeo_ boss waved his hand to the leaders; then, as the train strung out up the canyon, he rode over to the house to say good-bye. The last farewell is a formality often dispensed with in the Far West; but in this case the boss had business to attend to, and--well, he had something to say to Kitty Bonnair, too. Very quietly, in order not to awaken his partner--whom he had picked up like a tired baby and stored away in the darkened bunk-room the evening before--Creede opened the door of the living-room, greeted his lady-love with a cheerful grin, and beckoned Miss Lucy outside by a backward jerk of the head.