and bacon and eggs in the pan, by the time Wallace had a fresh horse saddled.
Eudora had hopped her horse barebacked to go to the pasture. She saddled him now, and came to the kitchen gate with him as Wallace was settling his feet under the table to eat a hasty breakfast. She chafed under this delay, but was as polite as Wallace was wise. He knew that ten minutes more meant little in the job ahead of him, and a full man was worth more than a hungry one for a long, hard ride. Waco was loading shotgun shells in the bunk-house: he was through by the time Wallace came out wiping egg from his chin.
Eudora, her face looking pinched and very pale, came bursting out of the house dressed for the saddle, having made the change in two swipes. Her breast was heaving as if she had been under water. She said she thought they could get some help down the road among the homesteaders, who all felt deep gratitude and obligation to Tom. She said she was going at once to see what could be done.
"You've got a good head," Waco approved. "Come on."
"Waco Johnson, you get right down off that horse!" Mrs. Ellison called sharply from the kitchen porch.
"Ma'am?" said Waco, twisting around in surprised comicality, the shotgun in his hand.
"Do you want to lose that leg?" she demanded.
"If I lose both of 'em clean up to my na—my belly-band, I don't give a cuss!" Waco replied.
They were off, the three of them starting with a bound, leaning like jockeys, their resolution made and acted on with celerity that promised badly for the gang at Drum-
