“Looks as if the Boss of Creation was in a hurry,” said one of the eager gazers in the doorway.  “Somebody goin’ to get smashed, sure.”

“More like as if he was just humpin’ himself to keep from getting smashed,” said Steptoe.  “The bank hasn’t got over the effect of their smart deal in the Wheat Trust.  Everything they had in their hands tumbled yesterday in Sacramento.  Men like me and you ain’t goin’ to trust their money to be ‘jockeyed’ with in that style.  Nobody but a man with a swelled head like Stacy would have even dared to try it on.  And now, by G-d! he’s got to pay for it.”

The harsh, exultant tone of the speaker showed that he had quite forgotten Van Loo and Hamlin in his superior hatred of the millionaire, and both men noticed it.  Van Loo edged still nearer to the door, as Steptoe continued, “Ever since he made that big strike on Heavy Tree five years ago, the country hasn’t been big enough to hold him.  But mark my words, gentlemen, the time ain’t far off when he’ll find a two-foot ditch again and a pick and grub wages room enough and to spare for him and his kind of cattle.”

“You’re not drinking,” said Jack Hamlin cheerfully.

Steptoe turned towards the bar, and then started.  “Where’s Van Loo?” he demanded of Jack sharply.

Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  “Gone to hurry up his girl, I reckon.  I calculate he ain’t got much time to fool away here.”

Steptoe glanced suspiciously at Jack.  But at the same moment they were all startled—­even Jack himself—­at the apparition of Mrs. Barker passing hurriedly along the veranda before the windows in the direction of the still waiting buggy.  “D—­n it!” said Steptoe in a fierce whisper to the man next him.  “Tell her not there—­at the back door!” But before the messenger reached the door there was a sudden rattle of wheels, and with one accord all except Hamlin rushed to the veranda, only to see Mrs. Barker driving rapidly away alone.  Steptoe turned back into the room, but Jack also had disappeared.

For in the confusion created at the sight of Mrs. Barker, he had slipped to the back door and found, as he suspected, only one horse, and that with a side-saddle on.  His intuitions were right.  Van Loo, when he disappeared from the saloon, had instantly fled, taking the other horse and abandoning the woman to her fate.  Jack as instantly leaped upon the remaining saddle and dashed after him.  Presently he caught a glimpse of the fugitive in the distance, heard the half-angry, half-ironical shouts of the crowd at the back door, and as he reached the hilltop saw, with a mingling of satisfaction and perplexity, Mrs. Barker on the other road, still driving frantically in the direction of the railroad station.  At which Mr. Hamlin halted, threw away his encumbering saddle, and, good rider that he was, remounted the horse, barebacked but for his blanket-pad, and thrusting his knees in the loose girths, again dashed forwards,—­with such good results that, as Van Loo galloped up to the stagecoach office, at the next station, and was about to enter the waiting coach for Marysville, the soft hand of Mr. Hamlin was laid on his shoulder.