"There's no doubt where he's headed for, is there?" Haig interrupted. "And who's going to stop him? No, saddle Trixy!" "But you're not going alone?" said Farrish. "Yes." "But--" "Bill's knocked out. Curly's off as soon as he can start for Tellurium. That leaves you and Pete to look after the ranch. I may be gone some time." "But you can't rope him alone!" protested Farrish. "I don't expect to. There isn't a horse in the Park that could overtake him. He'll make for the San Luis, of course. I'll get help there. Now then, Farrish, you're in charge of the ranch. If anything should happen to me, Jim knows where all my papers are. That's all." Farrish hastened to saddle Trixy, coiling a rope at the saddle horn, and strapping a slicker behind the saddle. At this moment came Pete from the cottage, bringing the revolver and cartridge belt, which Haig buckled on while Farrish led Trixy out in front of the stable. There was a word or two more to Farrish, about the cattle and the hay, and Haig swung himself into the saddle. "Wait!" cried Pete, running out of the stable. He handed a flask of whisky to Haig, who took it, smiling, and thrust it into a pocket of his coat. "Sure cure for everything, eh, Pete?" But he reached down, and clasped Pete's hand. "You will be cold, maybe," said the Indian simply. "All right, men!" said Haig. "You'll take good care of Craven, of course. And you'll use your best judgment about everything, Farrish. I'm not coming back without Sunnysides." He put spurs to the little bay mare, and dashed away. Pete and Farrish stood watching him until he had turned the point of the ridge. "Hell!" said Farrish. In the cottage door stood a figure in blue silks, intently gazing after the disappearing horseman. "He catchum, allee light!" murmured Slim Jim. CHAPTER XIX SMYTHE'S LAST BUDGET Seth had heard at the post-office that the deer were coming down unusually early from their summer haunts high in the mountains. A fine herd had been seen just above Bratner's, and Seth proposed to Marion that she should have a try at them. They would start early in the morning, stop the night at Bratner's, and be back home late the second evening. Marion reluctantly consented, and before going to bed that night she laid out woolen underwear, her stoutest riding costume, with divided skirts and knickerbockers and tan boots lacing almost to her knees. She did not want to go, but, as more than once before, she yielded to Seth's insistence rather than attempt an explanation.