Haig and Bill Craven presently compared notes in the matter of "busted" legs. Bill's had mended much sooner than Haig's, which was quite easily understood, considering the great difference in their circumstances. Curly had "nigh killed" the sorrels, getting the doctor for Craven, but they were all right now. "Fat and sassy," Curly added. "I'll take some of that out of them, to-morrow," said Haig. "I'll want the sleigh, Farrish. Please look after it in the morning." Then, seeing their impatience, he told them of Sunnysides' final escape, and of all the events that followed--as much as was good for them to know. "But where's Pete?" asked Craven. "He went to Huntington's with Miss Gaylord. He'll be along soon." "Well, jest wait till we git our hands on that damned Indian!" cried Bill. "Eh, men?" It was evident that there would be a considerable disturbance in the barn on Pete's arrival. A few minutes later Haig had his surprise. On entering the cottage he first encountered Slim Jim in the outer room. Perhaps Jim's face turned a trifle yellower, perhaps his thin legs trembled a little under the sky-blue trousers; but that was about all, except the light that flickered an instant in his eyes. "Glad you back!" he said simply. "Want supper?" "Want supper! Why, you scrawny, evil-eyed heathen! Want supper! I want everything you've got to eat, and everything you haven't got, and don't you tell me there's 'vellee lil' either, or I'll break every bone in your body. And be quick about it too!" Jim hurried into the kitchen with so much of a departure from his oriental poise that the first pan he picked up fell to the floor with a clatter. That was the most eloquent testimonial he could have given, unless it was the supper that was ready for Haig in an hour--and no "velle lil" supper at that--to his participation in the general rejoicing. Haig, meanwhile, opened the inner door, stepped into the library-bedroom, and halted dead still on the threshold. At his entrance, a tall, thin young man, with a very pale face, rose like an automaton and stared at him. It was a question which of the two was the more amazed. "Thursby!" cried Haig, recovering the more quickly. "Haig!" "Where did you come from?" "From the other side of the world. And you?" "From the very bowels of the earth, man!" They walked slowly toward each other until they met, and clasped hands. "You found him?" asked Haig, searching the other's face. "In Singapore." "And then?" "He's dead." "And she?" "I've sent her back to her people in Devonshire." Haig gripped hard the hand that was still clasped in his own, and there was a moment of silence. "Well," said Haig, "we'll have a nip of whisky, and then--You've come back to take your ranch, of course." "I _came_ back for that, but I can't figure out that it's mine now." "How's that?" asked Haig, pouring out the drinks. "I left three hundred head of cattle, and now I learn there are thirteen hundred head, almost."