“I’ve been thinkin’ of them,” interrupted MacDonald.  “You haven’t got time to waste on them, Johnny.  Leave ’em to me.  If it’s only a week you’ve got to be close an’ near by Mis’ Joanne.  I’ll find out what Quade an’ Rann are doing, and what they’re goin’ to do.  I’ve got a scheme.  Will you leave ’em to me?”

Aldous nodded, and in the same breath informed MacDonald of Peggy Blackton’s invitation.  The old hunter chuckled exultantly.  He stopped his horse, and Aldous halted.

“It’s workin’ out fine, Johnny!” he exclaimed.  “There ain’t no need of you goin’ any further.  We understand each other, and there ain’t nothin’ for you to do at the corral.  Jump off your horse and go back.  If I want you I’ll come to the Blacktons’ ’r send word, and if you want me I’ll be at the corral or the camp in the coulee.  Jump off, Johnny!”

Without further urging Aldous dismounted.  They shook hands again, and MacDonald drove on ahead of him the saddled horses and the pack.  And as Aldous turned back toward the bungalow old Donald was mumbling low in his beard again, “God ha’ mercy on me, but I’m doin’ it for her an’ Johnny—­for her an’ Johnny!”

CHAPTER XVII

Half an hour later Blackton had shown Aldous to his room and bath.  It was four o’clock when he rejoined the contractor in the lower room, freshly bathed and shaven and in a change of clothes.  He had not seen Joanne, but half a dozen times he had heard her and Peggy Blackton laughing and talking in Mrs. Blackton’s big room at the head of the stairs, and he heard them now as they sat down to smoke their cigars.  Blackton was filled with enthusiasm over the accomplishment of his latest work, and Aldous tried hard not to betray the fact that the minutes were passing with gruelling slowness while he waited for Joanne.  He wanted to see her.  His heart was beating like an excited boy’s.  He could hear her footsteps over his head, and he distinguished her soft laughter, and her sweet voice when she spoke.  There was something tantalizing in her nearness and the fact that she did not once show herself at the top of the stair.  Blackton was still talking about “coyotes” and dynamite when, an hour later, Aldous looked up, and his heart gave a big, glad jump.

Peggy Blackton, a plump little golden-haired vision of happiness, was already half a dozen steps down the stairs.  At the top Joanne, for an instant, had paused.  Through that space, before the contractor had turned, her eyes met those of John Aldous.  She was smiling.  Her eyes were shining at him.  Never had he seen her look at him in that way, he thought, and never had she seemed such a perfect vision of loveliness.  She was dressed in a soft, clinging something with a flutter of white lace at her throat, and as she came down he saw that she had arranged her hair in a marvellous way.  Soft little curls half hid themselves in the shimmer of rich coils she had wreathed upon her head, and adorable little tendrils caressed the lovely flush in her cheeks, and clung to the snow-whiteness of her neck.