“Shake! You'll enjoy it, Miss Donna. You'll find yourself real popular when you get up to the hotel. Some o' the natives was thinkin' o' bringin' their blankets an' three days' rations, an' campin' in front o' the hotel until you arrived. Well, good-by, till supper-time. I'm goin' to breeze along down to the Hat Ranch an' warn the nurse agin spies an' secret emissaries masqueradin' as angels o' mercy.” He waved his big hand at her and waddled down the track toward the Hat Ranch. Arrived there, he introduced himself to the nurse and made a few perfunctory inquiries regarding the condition of her patient, after which, with many premonitory coughs, he ventured to outline his campaign as San Pasqual's official news censor. The nurse was not lacking in a sense of humor, and readily agreed to enlist under the banner of Harley P. “An' remember,” he warned her, as he prepared to leave, “to look sharp if you see a forty-five-year-old damsel, with a little bright red face, all ears an' no chin, like the ace o' hearts. That'll be Miss Pickett. She'll have with her, like as not, a stout married lady, all gab an' gizzard, like a crow, an' a mouth like a new buttonhole. That'll be Mrs. Pennycook. Look out for 'em both. They talk!” And having played this unworthy trick on the gossips of San Pasqual, Mr. Hennage returned to town in a singularly cheerful state of mind, and devoted the balance of the day to the duties of his profession. That night, when he went to his dinner at the eating-house, he stopped at the counter to have a little chat with Donna. “What luck?” he asked. “I declare I'm almost exhausted. I've been dodging questions and tripping over hints all day long.” “Miss Pickett come over to offer sympathy.” “Yes.” “Hu-u-um! An' after she went away, I suppose Mrs. Pennycook come in as thick as three in a bed?” “She was very nice.” “She'd better be” he remarked, and Donna thought that beneath the jocularity of his manner she detected a menace. “What have you heard?” she queried. “I've heard,” he replied deliberately, “that Donna Corblay is harboring a desperate character in her home.” “I heard something else to-day. While we're gossiping, Mr. Hennage, I'll tell you the latest--the very latest. It's reported that Dan Pennycook is drinking.” “No!” Mr. Hennage was concerned. He was fond of Dan Pennycook. “Who told you!” he inquired. “He was seen buying a bottle of port wine in the Silver Dollar saloon this afternoon, and you know his wife is strictly temperance.”