Me Smith

yet, Susie?”
    She turned upon Ralston in good-natured contempt.
    “Goodness, but you’re slow! Don’t you understand? Smith’s my pal; we’re workin’ together. He cooked this up—him takin’ the safe and easy end of it himself. He sprung it on me that day I had a sull on. Don’t you see his game? He thinks if he can get me mixed up in something crooked, he can manage me. He’s noticed, maybe, that I’m not halter-broke. So I pretended to fall right in with his plans, once I had promised, meanin’ all the time to turn state’s evidence, or whatever you call it, and send him over the road. I wanted to show Mother and everybody else what kind of a man he is. I don’t want no step-papa named Smith.”
    The three men stared in amazement at the intrepid little creature with her canny Scotch eyes.
    “And do you mean to say,” Ralston asked, “that you’ve held your tongue and played your part so well that Smith has no suspicions?”
    “Hatin’ makes you smart,” she answered, “and I hate Smith so hard I can’t sleep nights. No, I don’t think he is suspicious; because I’m to pack grub to him this morning, and if he was afraid of me, he’d never let me know where he was camped. He’s holdin’ the horses over there in a blind canyon, and when I go over I’m to help him blotch the brands.”
    “We want to get the drop on him when he’s using the branding-iron.”
    “And you want to see that he shoves up his hands and keeps them there,” suggested Susie further, “for he’ll take big chances rather than have the Schoolmarm see him ridin’ to the Agency with his wrists tied to the saddle-horn.”
    “I know.” Ralston knew even better than Susie that Smith would fight like a rat in a corner to avoid this possibility.
    “My!” and Susie gave an explosive sigh, “but it’s an awful relief not to have that secret to pack around any longer, and to feel that I’ve got somebody to back me up.”
    A lump rose in Ralston’s throat, and, taking her brown little paws in both of his, he said:
    “To the limit, Susie—to the end of the road.”
    “And my pardner’s in on it, too, if he wants to be,” she declared loyally, slipping her arm through McArthur’s.
    “To be sure,” Ralston seconded cordially. “It will be an adventure for your diary.” He added, laying his hand upon McArthur’s shoulder: “I’m more than sorry about the mistake this morning, old man. Will you forgive Bear Chief and me?”
    In all McArthur’s studious, lonely life, no person ever had put his hand upon his shoulder and called him “old man.” The quick tears filled his eyes, and a glow, tingling in its warmth, rushed over him. The simple, manly act made him Ralston’s slave for life, but he answered in his quiet voice:
    “The mistake was natural, my dear sir.”
    “Smith will be gettin’ restless,” Susie suggested, “for his breakfast must have been pretty slim. We’d better be startin’.
    “Now, I’ll take straight across the hills in a bee-line, and the rest of you keep me in sight, but follow the draws. When I drop into the canyon, you cache yourselves until I come up and swing my hat. I’ll do my best to separate Smith from his gun, but if I can’t, I’ll throw you the sign to jump him.”
    “I shall arm myself with a pistol, and, if the occasion demands, I shall not hesitate to use it,” said McArthur, closing his lips with great firmness.
    Bear Chief was given a rifle, and then there was a scurrying about for cartridges. When they were saddled, each rode in a different direction, to meet again when out of sight of the ranch. With varied emotions, they soon were following Susie’s lead, and it was no easy task to keep the flying figure in sight.
    McArthur, panting, perspiring, choking his saddle-horn to death, wondered if any person of his acquaintance ever had participated in such a reckless ride. The instructor in Dead Languages, it is true, frequently had thrilled his colleagues with his recital of a night spent in a sapling, owing to the proximity of a she-bear, and McArthur always had mildly envied him the adventure, but now, he felt, if he lived to tell the tale, he had no further cause for envy.
    Bear Chief’s eyes were gleaming with the fires of other days, while the faded overalls and flannel shirt of civilization seemed to take on a look of savagery.
    Only Ralston’s eyes were sombre. He had no thought of weakening, but he had no feeling of elation; though, for the sake