Power was frankly puzzled by MacGonigal's excess of reticence. He knew the man so well that he wondered what sinister revelation lay behind this twice-repeated refusal to give a direct reply to his questions. By this time the appetizing drink was ready, and he swallowed it with the gusto of one who had found the sun hot and the trail dusty, though he had ridden only three miles from the railroad station in the valley, where he was supplied with a lame horse by the blunder of a negro attendant at the hotel. It was his way to solve a difficulty by taking the shortest possible cut; but, being quite in the dark as to the cause of his friend's perceptible shirking of some unknown trouble, he decided to adopt what logicians term a process of exhaustion. "All well at Dolores?" he asked, looking straight into the storekeeper's prominent eyes. "Bully!" came the unblinking answer. Ah! The worry, whatsoever it might be, evidently did not concern John Darien Power in any overwhelming degree. "Then what have you got on your chest, Mac?" he said, while voice and manner softened from an unmistakably stiffening. MacGonigal seemed to regard this personal inquiry anent his well-being as affording a safe means of escape from a dilemma. "I'm scairt about you, Derry," he said at once, and there was no doubting the sincerity of the words. "About me?" "Yep. Guess you'd better hike back to Sacramento." "But why?" "Marten 'ud like it." "Man, I've written to tell him I was on the way to Denver!" "Then git a move on, an' go thar." Power smiled, though not with his wonted geniality, for he was minded to be sarcastic. "Sorry if I should offend the boss by turning up in Bison," he drawled; "but if I can't hold this job down I'll monkey around till I find another. If you should happen to see Marten this afternoon, tell him I'm at the ranch, and will show up in Main Street tomorrow P.M." He was actually turning on his heel when MacGonigal cried: "Say, Derry, air you heeled?" Power swung round again, astonishment writ large on his face. "Why, no," he said. "I'm not likely to be carrying a gold brick to Dolores. Who's going to hold me up?" "Bar jokin', I wish you'd vamoose. Dang me, come back tomorrer, ef you must!"