of the ranches hereabouts and go back in the morning."
She started to get out.
"Forgive me for not telling you sooner." She smiled slightly. "It was awfully hot and I was tired of walking."
He looked at her with blank amazement.
"But you don't understand! I'm going to Wereville, too!"
She shook her head. "You thought you were. You're going back to Lastwaterreally."
She slid toward the door.
"Here!" Mulvaney said. "You can't do that! I'm taking you to Wereville!"
Her eyes grew stormy.
"Don't be a fool, Misterwhatever-your-name-is! They won't let you in! Go back now and save yourself trouble!"
"I'm not in the habit of saving myself trouble," he said grimly and let out the clutch.
The green coupé nosed into the bridge approach and roared into the cottonwood grove. Just in time, Mulvaney plunged his foot upon the brake. The coupé halted with not six inches separating its front bumper and the massive palings of a wooden gate.
A lean stranger in dusty overalls sat hunched on the top rail, meditatively chewing a blade of grass.
"Ain't no passage beyond this gate, Mister!" he called out.
Mulvaney's glance swiveled to a weather-beaten sign. WEREVILLE5 MILES, it said, and had an arrow pointing off up the ravine.
"You had to be smart," the girl said. "I told you sobut thanks for the lift."
"Hi, Jim!"
"Hi, Joan! Your paw and maw is waiting for you. Better git along."
"You can't block a public thoroughfare like this!" Mulvaney cried out hotly.
The man Jim pointed silently to a cloth sign tacked upon the gate. It bore the signature of the Sheriff, proclaimed that intruders were trespassers, and such would be prosecuted.
"I don't care what that says," Mulvaney thrust at him. "I've got business in Wereville, and I'm going there!"
"What business you got in Wereville?" Jim said, and whistled softly.
Three men armed with shotguns stepped out of leafy concealment. The eldest of the trio had a white beard. They stared levelly at Mulvaney.
"No strangers. It's for your own good," the beard said flatly.
The girl was watching Mulvaney with something like grim amusement in her glance.
"Maybe you'll give up now," she suggested.
He surveyed the armed group doubtfully. They appeared menacing enough, but not overly dangerous.
"Damn itno!" he explained. "I'm not a stranger!"
"What's that you say?"
The bearded man stepped closer and peered at him through the bars of the gate.
"I'm not a stranger," Mulvaney repeated. "IIwell, I belong here!"
"Who are you?"
"Kenneth Mulvaney. I was born in Wereville. I left with my parents while I was still a baby."
"Tod and Mary Mulvaney?" questioned the oldster.
"The same."
The man Jim had clambered down off the gate and joined the armed group. Mulvaney remained angrily at the wheel of the green coupé. The girl Joanhe wondered vaguely what other name she hadregarded him with startled wonder. The
