He ended with a halloo as we topped the last rise. There was no response or sign from the house. A puzzled look came over his face and he was down before his horse came to a stop. He sprang through the door.

"Hetty!" he shouted. "Hetty!" Then in a voice hoa.r.s.e from fear: "She ain't here. She ain't here. Hetty, where are you?"

He was rushing frantically from one room to another. Ferrier was more methodical. He found a piece of paper under a cup on the kitchen table, which he read and handed to his brother-in-law.

I can't stand it any longer. I am going away. You'll soon get over it. Be sure to feed the dog. Good-by.

Johnson held the penciled lines at arm's length, while I waited for him to say something. It is my belief that he did not distinguish the words after the first perusal. Then he began to laugh.

"Why, it can't be--Hetty, she wouldn't--say, it must be a joke--what does it mean?"

Bob lifted his shoulders in a shrug he had picked up from the Mexicans.

It stung Lafe.

"Where has she gone? Do you know anything about this?"

"Not me. She's been mighty queer lately, Lafe. Where could she go?"

We could only look at one another while we mentally debated possibilities. Hetty had no kith or kin in this region, and the nearest point was Badger. She could not have gone there, else we should have pa.s.sed her on the road.

"Mary Lou's!" Bob exclaimed. "I'll swear that's where she's. .h.i.t for."

Johnson remained beside the table a moment, deep in thought. Then he smote his hands together and an expression of relief lighted his face.

"I'll go get her," he told us.

We were for accompanying him to the Hardins' place, but had not gone more than a few hundred yards when he pulled up and requested that we go back. This matter was between him and Hetty--he said it with some hesitation--and it were better that he go alone. So we turned back, only to halt again.

"He might need some help," was Bob's excuse. "Supposing she's sick. What do you say if we trail him?"

"Come on."

It was now after nine o'clock and there was small probability of Johnson perceiving us. Yet we kept far in rear lest he hear our horses. We had proceeded perhaps a mile when he amazed us by riding back. Lafe was going at a lope and he did not pause. To our utter consternation he took no notice of our presence, but went by at a clatter and swerved to the right up a narrow ravine.

"He's crazy," said Ferrier. "He must have gone out of his head. Let's drift."

"Wait, Lafe. Wait!" I bellowed.

We jabbed with the spurs and went in pursuit. Presently we saw Lafe's horse standing riderless amid the post-oak, nibbling at the gra.s.s, and some distance in front we heard the stroke of his spur. He must have stubbed his toe, for he fell, and swore with freedom. That permitted us to gain on him, but he picked himself up and went forward at an ungainly run.

"What's got into him?" said Bob. He was puffing. We had abandoned our horses and were legging it after him as best we could.

"Search me!" I said breathlessly.

Far ahead I could see a spark burning. It was going steadily up the ravine. Surely Lafe could not be smoking; I dismissed this idea at once, for we could see him dimly and he was much nearer than the spark. It seemed to expand and cavort with glee as we came on.

The ravine had always been a favorite spot with Hetty. There were shady places in it during the day, however merciless the aching void of sky, and often had she brought her sewing to sit there, listening to the acorns drop in the hushed stillness.

"Gee, I can't run another step," said Ferrier. "You go on. Lafe! Stop!"

We both ceased running. I was compelled to clutch the limb of a tree to hold myself upright. The spark ahead of us was now grown to a ball of fire, giving off a vaporous sheen. Still it kept on, and the runner in front slowed to a walk: Lafe was as little accustomed to this exercise as we were. Then I perceived that Jack-o'-Lantern had come to a stop. He flashed above a tree, dipped downward, poised in midair.

"Hal-loo," came a cry from Johnson. "Here I am. Hurry! Hurry!"

"Let's try again," Bob gasped, and we forced our cramped limbs into a run.

Lafe was bending over a white object that lay huddled at the base of a tree.

"It's her," said he, as we arrived.

Hetty was unconscious, and had her head pillowed in the crook of one arm. Often so had Lafe seen her lying asleep, on tiptoeing into the room when returned from distant parts of the range.

"Here," Bob grunted. "Give me her legs. Help with the shoulders, Dan."

"I'll take 'em myself," Lafe said fiercely.

We lifted her very slowly and tenderly, and started back. Twice were we obliged to set our burden down and rest, but we managed to carry her back to the house. As we were placing her on the bed, Hetty revived and opened her eyes.

"Get away," she said fretfully to her husband. "You're always smelling of that tobacco. Get away. You make me tired."

"Hetty," Lafe whispered, groping for her hand.

"What're you looking so scared about?" his wife asked. "Leave me be, now. I hate you."

"Better get out," I cautioned. "Go and fetch Armstrong."

A few minutes later we heard the rattle of his horse's hoofs, going at full speed towards Badger. He had saddled a fresh mount. And we composed ourselves there in chairs beside the bed, to wait--listening to Hetty's moans when she would rouse from the semi-trance which held her. Never had I felt so helpless and so wholly wretched.

"Tut-tut," said Dr. Armstrong, when knocked up from bed. "Keep your shirt on, man. It isn't the first time in the history of the world, nor the last, I take it. She's a strong woman. Brace up."

Nevertheless, he made all speed, and although three score years had beaten over his rugged head, he never once complained during the long ride. Johnson went at a gallop, with brief, impatient periods of dogtrotting to breathe their horses. They covered the fourteen miles in fifty-seven minutes, and it was not much after one o'clock when they clattered up to the door.

Lafe would have pushed into the room had not the doctor thrust him back.

At the same time Hetty turned in the bed and cried petulantly that she would not have him near.

"Out you go," he ordered, "do you hear me? Don't go whining round here.

That's nothing unusual."

The husband demurred, but Armstrong shoved him outside. As he was pa.s.sing from the room, the doctor said to him over his shoulder in a tone of intense joy--the joy of the born physician in a fair fight against the Enemy: "She's liable to swear at you in a minute. Does she know how to swear? I've heard some of 'em cuss me everything they could lay their tongues to." It was almost a chortle he emitted, but he was solemn enough before Lafe had closed the door.

There is a flat rock on the slope in front of the Johnson house, and Lafe and Bob and I sat thereon and tried to smoke. It was of no use.

Lafe simply could not remain still. He suddenly remembered the horses, which we had entirely forgotten, and led them to the spring to be watered. That done, he unsaddled and turned them into the pasture. The beasts gave a long sigh of relief, shook themselves, lay down to roll, and began to graze. We joined him at the fence. Johnson spread his elbows on the top rail and kept his gaze on a brilliant spark that was rocketing among the cottonwoods. He turned away at last and took to wandering round and round the house, staring at the light in their bedroom window. Ferrier and I followed dumbly, finding no words to comfort. Lafe left us and rapped timidly on the door.

"I told you to get out and stay out!" Armstrong hissed. The doctor was not a nervous person, but he was strung to high tension. We caught Hetty's voice, raised in querulous supplication. It was very weak and seemed to carry reproach of Lafe, and he shrank back.

"Get out, I tell you. Go 'tend the horses," said Armstrong, giving him a push.

"I done 'tended 'em."