“Set down, boy, you’ve been hurt,” said Shearer. “I don’t--” “Who’s been here this evenin’?” asked Irish sharply. “Here?” queried Shearer. “Why, nobody--much. Some people did drop in some time ago, Irish. What do you mean?” “Who was here last?” Irish looked from Nell to her father. “I want to know,” he said wearily. “The minister was here, but he left almost a half-hour ago,” said Shearer. “Much obliged,” said Irish, and walked out. Nell and her father looked at each other curiously. There had been little sense to Irish’s conversation. “Dad, he has been hurt,” Nell said. “He looks terrible!” “Been hit on the head, Nell. Somebody should take care of him.” “Irish Delaney can take care of himself, Dad.” “Yeah, I reckon he can.” Shearer walked over and looked out the window, but it was too dark for him to see anything. “Why did he ask me about a letter?” she wondered aloud. “I never wrote him any letter.” Shearer came back to the table and looked at her. “Nell,” he said quietly, “do you still--well, do you still like Irish Delaney?” “No, Dad, I’m afraid not.” “Uh-huh. Well, I hope he won’t be too disappointed.” “I hope not. I’m afraid he wouldn’t be a dependable husband.” Irish went back to the main street and stopped at the hitchrack, where the men waited. All he said was: “We’re ridin’ again.” No one asked him anything more. He led the way on his sorrel and turned on the road to the 74 spread. They strung out, only a few yards apart, riding fast. There was some starlight now and the road was visible for a short distance. Irish set a fast pace, and the horses were well-blown when they pulled up just short of the ranchhouse. They could see a light there. “Take it easy now,” Irish said. “We’re goin’ in quiet.” “Are yuh still lookin’ for Buck?” whispered the sheriff. “For Buck and whoever is with him, Jim. Take it easy, boys.” They worked in close to the old porch. The front door was half-open. In the light from within they could see a horse standing close to the porch, its sides still heaving from a fast trip. A man was talking nervously as they stopped near the doorway. “I did come to town!” he declared. “I tried to find you, but you wasn’t home so I came back.” * * * * * The other voice asked a question, but too low for them to get the words. “I tell yuh, he was here,” Buck answered. “I left his gun in that drawer in the table, and it’s gone. I don’t know how he got loose. I’ve told yuh what happened up there. I hunted all over for him, but it was so blasted dark I couldn’t see a thing. Mebbe he went back to the Flyin’ M.” “I hope he did, Buck. As for you, you’ve bungled everything. Unless Irish Delaney walks into the house before anybody else gets there, you’ve put a rope around our necks. If he misses--you’re a goner, Buck.” “I’m headin’ for Mexico tonight.” “You’re staying right here, my friend, and you won’t talk.” “No, no!” screamed Buck French. “You can’t--”