In the shade of the biggest haystack, Tom and Al squatted on their boot heels with their faces toward the corral and the houses beyond, and talked for two hours in low monotones while they broke spears of fragrant hay into tiny bits and snapped the bits from them with thumb and finger. From the house porch Lance saw them there and wondered what they were talking about so long. He even meditated committing the crime of eavesdropping, but he decided against it. Even if there had been any point from which he could approach the two unseen, his soul rebelled against such tactics employed in cold blood. Devil's Tooth Ranch dragged somehow through its third day of inaction, and that night prepared itself to sleep if possible, though the hot wind still blew half a gale and the sky was too murky to show any stars. Daylight found Lance awake and brooding as he had done ever since his return. He heard no sound in the house, and after a while he dressed and went down to the bunk house. It was empty. No extra horses had been corralled the night before, of that he was sure. Yet the boys were gone again, and with them had gone Tom and Al. He looked and saw Coaley in the box stall. On this morning Lance asked no questions of Sam Pretty Cow or Shorty, who presently appeared and went listlessly about their tasks. He returned to the house, heard Riley grinding coffee, and dressed for riding while he waited for breakfast. He was drinking his first cup of coffee when Belle appeared in a thin blue kimono and a lacey breakfast cap which Lance knew had been ordered from the big, dog-eared catalogue on the living room table. He roused himself from scowling meditation and gave her a smile. "Sleep any?" "Not much," sighed Belle. "Tom--" she stopped and looked at Lance hesitatingly. "Tom had to push the cattle back from Lava Bed way--he says this weather's drying up Lava Creek and the stock'll suffer if they're left drifting up and down the mud-holes where they've watered all summer. He took the boys and started about two in the morning--to get out of the heat. I--I didn't think you'd want to go, honey--" "You thought right. I didn't want to go; it's too hot," Lance assured her, and refrained from looking at her face and the pathetic cheerfulness she was trying so hard to make real. "It's sultry. I thought yesterday I couldn't stand another hour of that wind--but now I wish it would blow. It's going to storm--" "Yes. It's going to storm." Lance set down his empty cup. "I may go fishing, Belle. Don't look for me back--I may ride over and see how the AJ is making out. The little Boyle girl is not married yet, I hope?" "Oh--no. No, she isn't. Lance, honey--" Lance waited beside her chair, but Belle seemed to forget that she had anything to say. She sat leaning her head on one hand, the other stirring her coffee absent-mindedly. "Don't get caught out," she said apathetically.