Loudon bought half-a-dozen cigars, stuffed five into the pocket of his shirt, lit the sixth, and went out to his horse. Puffing strongly, he mounted and turned into the street designated by the dilapidated ancient. As he loped past the corner he glanced over his shoulder. He noted that not only was Pete O'Leary watching him from the window of a dance hall, but that the tattered old person, leaning against a hitching rail, was observing him also. "I might be a hoss-thief or somethin'," muttered Loudon with a frown. "This shore is a queer village o' prairie dogs. The cigar's good, anyway." Then, his horse having covered a hundred yards in the interval, he quoted, "'Couldn't Sam come?' an', 'I'm Pete O'Leary.' Sam, Sam, who's Sam? Now if Johnny Ramsay was here he'd have it all figured out in no time." "Why, Mr. Loudon! Oh, wait! Do wait!" Loudon turned his head. In the doorway of a house stood a plump young woman waving a frantic dish-cloth. Ranger, hard held, slid to a halt, turned on a nickel, and shot back to the beckoning young woman. "Well, ma'am," said Loudon, removing his hat. "Don't you remember me?" coquettishly pouted the plump lady. Loudon remembered her perfectly. She was Mrs. Mace, wife of Jim Mace, a citizen of Paradise Bend. He had met her the year before when she was visiting Kate Saltoun at the Bar S. He had not once thought of Mrs. Mace since her departure from the ranch, and of course he had completely forgotten that she lived in Paradise Bend. If he had recalled the fact, he would have sought the Burrs' residence by some other route. One of Kate's friends was the last person on earth he cared to meet. "Shore, I remember yuh, Mrs. Mace," said Loudon, gravely. "I'm right glad to see yuh," he added, heavily polite. "Are you?" said the lady somewhat sharply. "Try to look happy then. I ain't a grizzly, an' I don't bite folks. I won't stop you more'n a second." "Why, ma'am, I am glad to see yuh," protested Loudon, "an' I ain't in no hurry, honest." "That's all right. I ain't offended. Say, how's Kate an' her pa?" "Fine when I saw 'em last. Kate's as pretty as ever." "She ought to be. She ain't married. Matrimony shore does rough up a woman's figure an' face. Lord, I'm a good thirty pounds heavier than I was when I saw you last. Say, do you know if Kate got that dress pattern I sent her last month?" "I dunno, ma'am. I didn't hear her say." "I s'pose not. I guess you two had more important things to talk about. Say, how are you an' Kate gettin' along, anyway?" "Why, all right, I guess." Loudon felt extremely unhappy. Mrs. Mace's keen gaze was embarrassing. So was her next utterance. "Well, I guess I'll write to Kate," remarked the lady, "an' find out about that dress pattern. She always was a poor writer, but she'd ought to have sent me a thank-you anyway, an' me her best friend. I'll tell her I saw yuh, Mr. Loudon."