leaned to look out of the open door, a platter of ham and eggs raised high to balance her.
"It's them two deputy sheriffs," said Jim, curious speculation in his voice. "Wonder what they're back here after?"
"More cider," said Jinny, scornful of man's weakness.
"Hello, boys!" Jim hailed from the door, too much interested in breakfast to go very far away from it. "Light and look at your saddles. Come on in and get some breakfast."
Jinny had anticipated this shouted invitation. She was at the cupboard after more plates and cups, and Maud, knowing the rule of hospitality in that country, was closing little Jim and Jinny up, making room for the visitors at the end of the table. Louise heard the crunch on the gravel path leading from gate to door.
"Say, Jim, you ain't seen them darn cows of ours around here this morning, have you?" one of the deputies inquired, considerably troubled.
"No. What's the matter of 'em?"
"Gone," another voice replied. "We left 'em there, all bunked down when we come over here last night. There wasn't a hide or hair of 'em in sight when we got up this morning."
"Have you looked around over there?" Jim asked.
"Sure we have. They're gone as clean as if the wind had blowed 'em away."
Louise looked at Tom, who turned toward the door, listening to what was being reported. She wondered
