The expected avalanche of cushions quenched his song but not his ebullient spirits, for he was soon in a corner with Lottie Mason and Paula concocting a conspiracy against Terrence. And so the evening continued to be danced and joked and played away. At midnight supper was served, and not till two in the morning were the Wickenbergers ready to depart. While they were getting on their wraps, Paula was proposing for the following afternoon a trip down to the Sacramento River to look over Dick's experiment in rice-raising. "I had something else in view," he told her. "You know the mountain pasture above Sycamore Creek. Three yearlings have been killed there in the last ten days." "Mountain lions!" Paula cried. "Two at least.--Strayed in from the north," he explained to Graham. "They sometimes do that. We got three five years ago.--Moss and Hartley will be there with the dogs waiting. They've located two of the beasts. What do you say all of you join me. We can leave right after lunch." "Let me have Mollie?" Lute asked. "And you can ride Altadena," Paula told Ernestine. Quickly the mounts were decided upon, Froelig and Martinez agreeing to go, but promising neither to shoot well nor ride well. All went out to see the Wickenbergers off, and, after the machines were gone, lingered to make arrangements for the hunting. "Good night, everybody," Dick said, as they started to move inside. "I'm going to take a look at Alden Bessie before I turn in. Hennessy is sitting up with her. Remember, you girls, come to lunch in your riding togs, and curses on the head of whoever's late." The ancient dam of the Fotherington Princess was in a serious way, but Dick would not have made the visit at such an hour, save that he wanted to be by himself and that he could not nerve himself for a chance moment alone with Paula so soon after what he had overseen in the patio. Light steps in the gravel made him turn his head. Ernestine caught up with him and took his arm. "Poor old Alden Bessie," she explained. "I thought I'd go along." Dick, still acting up to his night's rôle, recalled to her various funny incidents of the evening, and laughed and chuckled with reminiscent glee. "Dick," she said in the first pause, "you are in trouble." She could feel him stiffen, and hurried on: "What can I do? You know you can depend on me. Tell me." "Yes, I'll tell you," he answered. "Just one thing." She pressed his arm gratefully. "I'll have a telegram sent you to-morrow. It will be urgent enough, though not too serious. You will just bundle up and depart with Lute." "Is that all?" she faltered. "It will be a great favor." "You won't talk with me?" she protested, quivering under the rebuff. "I'll have the telegram come so as to rout you out of bed. And now never mind Alden Bessie. You run a long in. Good night." He kissed her, gently thrust her toward the house, and went on his way. CHAPTER XXX