Buck hastily entered the shack, which was almost pitch-dark. A faint glint of metal came from the telephone, hanging beside one window; and as he swiftly crossed the room and fumbled for the bell, there stirred within him a sudden sense of apprehension that was almost dread. CHAPTER XXIX CREEPING SHADOWS With her back against the veranda pillar, Mary Thorne watched the group of mounted men canter down the slope, splash across the creek, and file briskly through the gate leading to middle pasture. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that, for the most part, her glance followed one of them, and when the erect, jaunty, broad-shouldered figure on the big roan had disappeared, she gave a little sigh. "He looks better--much better," she murmured. Her eyes grew dreamy, and in her mind she saw again that little hidden canyon with its overhanging ledge beneath which the man lay stretched out on his blankets. Somehow, the anxiety and suspense, the heart-breaking worry and weariness of that strange experience had faded utterly. There remained only a very vivid recollection of the touch of her hand against his damp forehead, the feeling of his crisp, dark hair as she pushed it gently back, the look of those long, thick lashes lying so still against his pallid face. Not seldom she had wished those fleeting moments might have been prolonged. Once or twice she was even a little jealous of Bud Jessup's ministrations; just as, thinking of him now, she was jealous of his constant nearness to Buck and the manner in which he seemed so intently to share all the other's plans and projects, and even thoughts. "Well, anyway," she said suddenly aloud, "I'm glad Stella's not here." Then, realizing that she had spoken aloud, she blushed and looked hastily around. No one was in sight, but a moment or two later Mrs. Archer appeared on the veranda. "I thought I heard voices a little while ago," she said, glancing around. "Have the men come back?" Mary turned to meet her. "No, dear. That was the--the sheriff and some of his men." "The sheriff!" An expression of anxiety came into Mrs. Archer's pretty, faded face. "But what has happened? What--?" "I'm not quite sure; they had no time to explain." The girl put an arm reassuringly around the older woman's shoulder. "But they're after Tex and the other hands. They've done something--" "Ha!" In any other person the sound would have seemed suspiciously like a crow of undisguised satisfaction. "Well, I'm thankful that at last somebody's shown some common sense." "Why, auntie!" Astonished, the girl held her off at arm's length and stared into her face. "You don't mean to say you've suspected--?" Mrs. Archer sniffed. "Suspected! Why, for weeks and weeks I've been perfectly certain the creature was up to no good. You know I never trusted him." "Yes; but--"