“Because I say so.”

“Whatell’s it to you?”

“All you have to do is say in Farewell that you saw Marie here at Dale’s and you’ll find out.  I’ll even go farther than that.  I’m tellin’ you, Rack, that if anybody finds out in Farewell that Marie was here, or if any accident happens to her—­any accident, y’understand—­I’ll have to take it as evidence that you had to blat.  Fair enough, huh?”

“But supposing somebody else sees her and tells about it?” protested Rack Slimson.

“In that case yo’re out of luck,” was the unfeeling reply.

“But—­” began again Rack Slimson.

“You might try prayer,” Racey interrupted.  “It would maybe help.  You can’t tell.”

The unhappy Rack Slimson looked toward Mr. Saltoun and Tom Loudon.  But there was no aid for him in that quarter.  In fact, both men eyed him with frank hostility.

“So you see Marie is kept out of it.”  Racey laid his final injunction on Rack as the girl in question joined them.  “You don’t guess this girl is her, do you?”

“Nun-no,” declared Rack, hastily.  “I don’t.  She’s somebody else for all I care.”

“That’s the way to talk,” Racey said, nodding approvingly.  “You keep right on holding to those sentiments and I wouldn’t be surprised if you lived quite a long while.”

Marie showed her teeth in a laugh.  “I ain’t a-scared of any such breed of chunker as Rack Slimson,” said she, calmly.  “I can manage him my own self.  You goin’ back to Farewell, Racey?”

“Right now.”

“Then I’ll be going with you.”

“You’ll do no such a thing.  There’s no sense in yore running into trouble thataway.  You’ll come in to Farewell after me and from another direction.”

“Shore, I was going to.  I was only gonna ride along with you part way.”

Racey shook his head.  “Wouldn’t be sensible, that wouldn’t.  Somebody might see you.  You come along later like I told you.  Me and Rack will travel together.”

“I was goin’ to the 88,” protested Rack.

“Yo’re mistaken,” Racey told him, firmly.  “Yo’re going to Farewell—­with me.  Ain’t you?”

“I s’pose so,” Rack Slimson capitulated.

“Then c’mon.  Get a-goin’.”

Marie watched the two men ride away together.  “Ain’t he the hellion?” she said, admiringly, to Tom and Old Salt.  “Bound to have his own way if it kills him.”

At this there was a slight sound from the direction of the garden.  Marie and the two men turned to look.  Trowel in hand Molly Dale was kneeling on one knee between the brook and a row of blue camass.  But she was not doing any weeding.  She was staring fixedly at Marie.  While a man could breathe twice Molly stared at Marie, then she dropped her head and became very busy with the trowel.

Marie’s sniff was audible at thirty feet.  She picked up her reins and nodded to Tom Loudon and Mr. Saltoun.

“See you later,” said she, and started her horse in the direction of Farewell.  But she whirled him back before he had taken three steps.