"It was like this," he began. "Me and Lizzie had been thick for a couple of years and was jest waitin' till I'd corralled enough cash for a start. Then the other day along comes this feller Bard with a queer way of talkin' school language. Made you feel like you was readin' a bit out of a dictionary jest to listen to him for a minute. Liz, she never heard nothin' like it, I figure. She got all eyes and sat still and listened. Bein' like that he plumb made a fool out of Liz. Kidded her along and wound up by kissing her good-bye. I didn't see none of this; I jest heard about it later. When I come up and started talkin' jest friendly with Liz she got sore and passed me the frosty stare. I didn't think she could be doin' more than kiddin' me a bit, so I kept right on and it ended up with Liz sayin' that all was over between us." He paused on his tragedy, set his teeth over a sigh, and went on: "The feller ain't no good. I know that from a chap that come to the house a few hours after Bard left. Nash was his name--" "What!" "Nash. Feller built husky around the shoulders--looks like a fighter. Know him?" "Pretty well. D'you say he come to your house right after Bard left it?" "Yep. Why?" "How long ago was this?" "About three days." "Three days?" "What's wrong?" "Nothin'." "You look like you was goin' to murder some one, lady." Her laughter ended with a jerk and jar. "Maybe I am. G'wan! Tell me some more about what Nash said." "Why, he didn't say much. Hinted around that maybe Bard had walked off with the piebald hoss he was ridin'." "That's a lie." "Lady," said the other a little coldly, "you say that like you was a friend of Bard's." "Me? There ain't nobody around these parts man enough to say to my face that I'm a friend of that tenderfoot." "I'm glad of that. My name's Ralph Boardman." "I'm Sally Fortune." "Sure; I've heard of you--a lot. Say, you couldn't tip me off where I could hit the trail of Bard?" "Dunno. Wait; lemme see." She studied, with closed eyes. What she was thinking was that if Nash had been so close to Bard three days before he was surely on the trail of the tenderfoot and certainly that meeting in her place had not been a casual one. She set her teeth, thinking of the promise Nash had given to her. Undoubtedly he had laughed at it afterward. And now Bard probably lay stretched on his back somewhere among the silent hills looking up to the pitiless brightness of the sky with eyes which could never shut. The hollow feeling of which Sally had complained to Bert grew to a positive ache, and the tears stood up closer to her eyes. "Wait around town," she said in a changed voice. "I think I heard him say something of riding out, but he'll be back before long. That's the only tip I can give you, partner." So she rose and hurried back to the kitchen. "Bert," she said, "I'm off for the rest of the day. You got to handle the place." He panted: "But the heavy rush--it ain't started yet." "It's started for me."