More than a half hour had already passed, she thought nervously. Then she began to count the minutes before her messengers should return. The time seemed endless since she had decided to wait for more particulars before informing Livingston of what was about to take place. The twins had learned of it only that afternoon, and they, though filled with the foreboding of a desperate plot, could tell nothing positive about the actual plans. These she hoped they would be able to ascertain. She believed that the soft-voiced twin knew more than he was willing to divulge when he advised her so emphatically against informing Livingston of the plot. This, combined with a certain anxiety of her own, which she was unable to define, filled her with vague uneasiness and decided her instantly to do nothing until the boys returned with more particulars. "You don't mean to say you've finished your supper, Hope," exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, as the girl settled herself comfortably in the dark corner. "_I_ never was so hungry before in all my life!" She turned to Jim McCullen, who put his head inside the tent: "You see, Mr. McCullen, that good, hard, patient endeavor brings its own reward! I wouldn't miss this for worlds!" "I'm very glad to hear it, ma'am," replied old Jim politely. "Reckon you'll sleep pretty well out there to-night, no misquitoes er nothin' to bother you. The tent's all ready fer you folks any time. Plenty o' blankets an' it'll be a warmer night'n usual. Well, so long!" "Why, he's going away!" said Hope in surprise, as a horse loped down the creek bank and on through the brush trail. An impulse to run out and call him back seized her. Sydney's slow reply caused a delay, the impulse to do so wavered, and in another moment it was too late; yet she felt somehow that she had made a mistake. "Yes," replied Carter, after listening to Mrs. Van Rensselaer's chatter for a moment, "he's going over to the round-up. It's camped about ten or fifteen miles, down at the foot of the mountains. It's as light as day out and much pleasanter riding in the cool of evening. He'll be back early in the morning. Had some mail from the ranch to take over to the boys." "The poor fellows on the round-up all summer! I bet they're glad to get their mail," murmured Clarice. "What they get don't hurt them any," remarked Sydney. "Range riding isn't conducive to letter writing, and it doesn't take long before a cow-puncher is about forgotten by his home people, and his mail consists of an occasional newspaper, sent by someone who happens to remember him, and the regular home letter from his old mother, who never forgets. By the way, here's a lot of mail for O'Hara. Have to ride over with it unless he turns up pretty soon." "Dear Larry!" said Clarice. "What made him leave just when I came up here? I'd love to see him! He's such a jolly good fellow. You didn't send him away on some wild-goose chase, did you, Hope?"