Ford looked at him sharply, in doubt as to just how much or how little Jim meant by that.  He finally shrugged his shoulders and went away to tell Mrs. Kate, and found that a matter which required more diplomacy than he ever suspected he possessed.  But he did tell her, and he hoped that she believed the reason he gave for going, and also had some faith in his assurance that he would be back, probably, in a couple of days—­or as soon afterwards as might be.

“There’s nothing but chores to do now around the ranch, and Jack will ride fence,” he explained unnecessarily, to cover his discomfort at her coldness.  “Jim can look after things just as well as I can.  There won’t be any need to start feeding the calves, unless it storms; and if it does, Jim and Jack will go ahead, all right.  I’m going to let Dick and Curly go.  We don’t need more than two men besides Walt, from now on.”

“I wish Chester was here,” said Mrs. Kate ambiguously.

Ford did not ask her why she wished that.  He told her good-by as hastily as if he had to run to catch a train, and left her.  He hoped he would be lucky enough to see Josephine—­and then he hoped quite as sincerely that he would not see her, after all.  It would be easier to go without her clear eyes asking him why.

What he meant to do first was to find Rock, and see if he had been sober enough that night in Sunset to remember what happened at the marriage ceremony, and could give him some clue as to the woman’s identity and whereabouts.  If he failed there, he intended to hunt up the preacher.  That, also, presented certain difficulties, but Ford was in the mood to overcome obstacles.  Once he discovered who the woman was, it seemed to him that there should be no great amount of trouble in getting free.  As he understood it, he was not the man she had intended to marry; and not being the man she wanted, she certainly could not be over-anxious to cling to him.

While he galloped down the trail to town, he went over the whole thing again in his mind, to see if there might be some simpler plan than the one he had formed in the night.

“No, sir—­it’s Rock I’ve got to see first,” he concluded.  “But Lord only knows where I’ll find him; Rock never does camp twice in the same place.  Never knew him to stay more than a month with one outfit.  But I’ll find him, all right!”

And by one of those odd twists of circumstances which sets men to wondering if there is such a thing as telepathy and a specifically guiding hand and the like, it was Rock and none other whom he met fairly in the trail before he had gone another mile.

“Well, I’ll be gol darned!” Ford whispered incredulously to himself, and pulled up short in the trail to wait for him.

Rock came loping up with elbows flapping loosely, as was his ungainly habit.  His grin was wide and golden as of yore, his hat at the same angle over his right eyebrow.

“Gawd bless you, brother!  May peace ride behind your cantle!” he declaimed unctuously, for Rock was a character, in his way, and in his speech was not in the least like other men.  “Whither wendest thou?”