"But I don't see why," he said after an interval, "you had to go off on a wild-goose chase thisaway. Didn't I tell you I was going to fix it up for you? Couldn't you 'a' trusted me enough to lemme do it my own way?" "We had that--that quarrel in the kitchen, and I thought you didn't like me any more, and--and wouldn't have any more to do with me and that it was my job to do something to help out the family.... Please! Racey! I can't breathe!" Another interval, and she resolutely pushed his arms down and held him away from her with both hands on his shoulders. "Tell me," said she, her blue eyes plumbing the very depths of his soul, "tell me you don't love anybody else." He told her. Later. "There was a time once when I thought you liked Luke Tweezy," he observed, lazily. "How horrible," she murmured with a slight shudder as she snuggled closer. And that was that. "I think, dearest," said Molly, raising her head from his shoulder some twenty minutes later, "that it's light enough now to see what's in the sack." So, in the brightness of a splendid dawn, snugly hidden on the tree-covered flank of one of the Frying Pan Mountains, they opened the bran sack and went through every paper it contained. There were deeds, mortgages, legal documents of every description. They found the Dale mortgage, but they did not find the release alleged to have been signed by Dale immediately prior to his death. "Of course that mortgage is recorded," said Racey, dolefully, staring at the pile of papers, "so destroyin' that won't help us any. The release he's carrying with him, and I don't see anything--" "Here's one we missed," said Molly Dale in a hopeless tone, picking up a slip of paper from where it had fallen behind a saddle. The slip of paper was folded several times. She opened it and spread it out against her knee. "Why, how queer," she muttered. "Huh?" In an instant Racey was looking over her shoulder. When both had thoroughly digested the meaning of the writing on that piece of paper they sat back and regarded each other with wide eyes. "This ought to fix things," breathed Molly. "Fix things!" cried Racey. "Cinch! We've got him like that." He snapped his fingers joyfully. Molly reached for the bran sack. "You only shook it out," she said. "I'm going to turn it inside out. Maybe we'll find something else." They did find something else. They found a document caught in the end seam. They read it with care and great interest. "Well," said Racey, when he came to the signatures, "no wonder Jack Harpe and Jakey Pooley wanted to get into the safe. No wonder. If we don't get the whole gang now we're no good." "And to think we never thought of such a thing." "I was took in. I never thought anything else. And it does lie just right for a cow ranch." "Of course it does. You couldn't help being fooled. None of us had any idea--"