They lifted Louise into the wagon and laid her down upon the hay.

"Whish you--gennelmanz my hushband?" she asked thickly.

Pan had to laugh at that, but Blinky stood gazing intently down upon the pale gleam of face. Pan left him there and strode toward the house. Though the distance was short, he ran the whole gamut of emotions before he stopped at a lighted window. He heard his father's voice.

"Dad," he called, tapping on the window. Then he saw his mother and Alice. They had started up from packing. One glance at the suffering expressed in his mother's face was enough to steady Pan. The door opened with a jerk.

"That you--Pan?" called his father, with agitation.

"n.o.body else, Dad," replied Pan, trying to calm his voice. "Tell Mother I'm here safe and sound."

His mother heard and answered with a low cry of relief.

"Dad, come out.... Shut the door," returned Pan sharply.

Once outside his father saw the great flare of light above the town.

"Look! What's that? Must be fire!" he burst out.

"Reckon it is fire," returned Pan shortly. "Blinky shot out the lamps in the Yellow Mine. Fire must have caught from that."

"Yellow Mine!" echoed Smith, staring in momentary stupefaction.

Pan laid a heavy hand on him. It was involuntary, an expression of a sudden pa.s.sion rising in Pan. He had a question to put that almost stifled him.

"Lucy! ... Did she--come home?" he forced out.

"Sure. Didn't you know? She was home when I got here at noon. Son, I bought all our outfit in no time."

"What did Lucy tell you?"

"Nothin' much," replied his father, in earnest wonder. "She was in an awful state. Said she couldn't go because you were not dead ... poor girl! She had hysterics. But mother got her quieted down by suppertime."

"Where is she now?"

"In bed, I reckon. Leastways she's in her room."

"Dad, does she know? But of course she couldn't ... nor could you!"

"Son, I know aplenty," replied his father, solemnly. "Lucy told mother when she saw you come to the stagecoach that it nearly killed her.

They believed you dead--mother an' Lucy.... She told how you threw Hardman out of the stage on to the street. Said she almost fainted then. But she came to in time to see you kick him--drive him off."

"Is that all she knows?" queried Pan.

"Reckon it is. I know more, but I didn't tell her," replied Smith, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I heard about them drivin' Matthews out to meet you.... McCormick told me you hadn't lost any friends."

"Ah-huh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Pan somberly. "Well, better tell Lucy at once....

Reckon that's best--the sooner the better."

"Tell Lucy what?" asked Smith anxiously.

"That she's a widow."

"It--is d.i.c.k Hardman dead--too?" gasped out Smith.

"Yes."

"My G.o.d! Son--did--did you--"

"Dad, I didn't kill him," interrupted Pan. "d.i.c.k Hardman was--was knocked out--just before Blinky shot out the lights. Reckon it's a good bet no one will ever know. He sure was burned up in that fire."

"_Alive_?" whispered Smith.

"He might still have been alive, but he was far gone--unconscious when I pa.s.sed him in the hall. You needn't tell Lucy that. Just tell her Hardman is dead and that _I_ didn't kill him."

"All right, I'll go right an' do it," replied his father huskily.

"Before you do it fetch me a roll of blankets. We haven't any beds.

And Blinky's wife is with us."

"Wife? I didn't know Blinky had one. Fetch her in. We'll make room somewhere."

"No, we've already fixed a place for her in that wagon with the square top," went on Pan. "She's been sick. Rustle, Dad. Fetch me the blankets."

"Got them right inside. We bought new ones," said Smith, opening the door to hurry in.

"Mother," called Pan, "everything's all right. We'll be leaving early tomorrow."

Then his father reappeared with a roll of blankets. Pan found Blinky exactly as he had left him, leaning over the wagon.

"Blink, put a couple of these blankets over her," directed Pan.

"She went right off, asleep, like she was daid," whispered the cowboy, and he took the blankets and stepped up on the wheel hub to lay the blankets softly over the quiet form Pan saw dimly in the starlight.

"Come here, cowboy," called Pan.

And when Blinky got down and approached, Pan laid hold of him with powerful hand.

"Listen, pard," he began, in low voice. "We're playing a deep game, and by G.o.d, it's an honest game, even though we have to lie.... Louise will never remember she cut that traitor's heart out. She was too crazy. If it half returns to her we'll lie--you understand--_lie_....

n.o.body will ever know who did kill Hardman, I'll gamble. I intended to, and all Marco must have known that. If he burned up they can't ever be sure. Anyway, that doesn't matter. It's our women folks we've got to think of. I told Dad you'd brought your wife--that she'd been sick. He'll tell Mother and Lucy. They don't know, and they never will know what kind of a girl Louise has been.... Savvy, pard?"

"Reckon I do," replied Blinky, in hoa.r.s.e trembling accents. "But won't we have h.e.l.l with Louise--when she wakes up sober?"

"Cowboy, you bet we will," returned Pan grimly. "But we'll be far on our way when she wakes up. You can drive this wagon. We'll keep watch on her. And, well--leave it to me, Blink."

"Pan, we feel the same aboot Louie? Sh.o.r.e I don't mean thet you love her. Reckon it's hard fer me to find words."

"I understand, Blink," replied Pan, earnestly, hoping to dispel the groping and doubt of his comrade's soul. "For you and me Louie's past is dead. We're gambling on life. And whatever way you put it, whatever the future brings, we're better for what happened tonight."