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"Oh, come out!" cried Dicksie, at the door. Marion had a letter to write and went upstairs, but Whispering Smith followed Dicksie. "Does everything you say come true?" she demanded as she stood in the sunshine. She was demure with light-heartedness and he looked at her approvingly. "I hope nothing I may say ever will come true unless it makes you happy," he answered lightly.
The days were shorter then, and the young people delighted to slip out at dusk, and wander about the fields, all three together. A gate opened from the vicarage grounds into the field-path beside the church, and there Alfred and Dicksie waited till Beth appeared, and often waited in vain, for Beth could not always get out.
The shock was too much for its unconscious rider, and, shot headlong from her saddle, Dicksie was flung bruised and senseless against Marion's door. She woke in a dream of hoofs beating at her brain. Distracted words fell from her lips, and when she opened her swollen eyes and saw those about her she could only scream.
The very calmness of the two at the table disconcerted the despatcher. He held the message in his hand and shuffled his feet. "Give me your despatch," said McCloud impatiently. Quite unable to take his hollow eyes off Dicksie, poor Rooney advanced, handed the telegram to McCloud, and beat an awkward retreat. McCloud devoured the words of the message at a glance.
I am mistress here still, I think; and I sha'n't be leaving home, you know, to make the trip!" McCloud looked at Marion. "I never worry over what can't be helped though it is dollars to cents that those fellows don't need me down there any more than a cat needs two tails. And how will you get back?" he asked, turning to Dicksie. "I will ride back!" returned Dicksie loftily.
In a moment he brought him in. Dicksie had seated herself on the sofa, McCloud stood in the doorway of the dining-room, and Whispering Smith laid one arm on the table as he sat down beside it with his face above the dark shade of the lamp. Before him stood Wickwire.
He has been up and down the river for three weeks, and he has an army of men camped over by the bridge. I know that, because Mr. Smith rode in from there a few days ago." "What, Whispering Smith? Oh, if he is there I would not go for worlds!" "Pray, why not?" "Why, he is such an awful man!" "That is absurd, Dicksie." Dicksie looked grave.
"Don't you think I care anything about you? There are people in this country that you have never seen who know you and love you almost as much as I do. Don't let any silly pride prevent your being sensible, dear." Dicksie burst into tears. Marion drew her over to the settee, and she had her cry out. When it was over they changed the subject. Dicksie went to her room.
About nine o'clock that night Puss ushered McCloud in from the river. Dicksie came running downstairs to meet him. "Your cousin insisted I should come up to the house for some supper," said McCloud dryly. "I could have taken camp fare with the men. Gordon stayed there with him." Dicksie held his hat in her hand, and her eyes were bright in the firelight.
When he asked his question she appeared slightly surprised and answered easily, "Mr. Sinclair will know it is from Dicksie Dunning." McCloud knew her then. Every one knew Dicksie Dunning in the high country. This was Dicksie Dunning of the great Crawling Stone ranch, most widely known of all the mountain ranches.
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