"But you haven't told me yet how you happen to be here," he suggested.
"I'd as soon have expected to see Ethel Henry coming up the gulch!"
"Didn't you get our letters?" cried Bert in astonishment.
"No, I haven't received any letters. Did you write?"
"Did we write! Well, I should think so! We wrote three times, telling
you we were coming and when to expect us. Jeems and I wondered why you
didn't meet us. That explains it. Seems funny you didn't get any of
those letters!"
"No, I don't believe it is so funny after all," responded Bennington,
who had been thinking it over. "I remember now that Davidson told the
others he had been intercepting my letters from the Company, and I
suppose he got yours too."
"That's it, of course. I'll have to interview that Davidson later.
Well, we used to train around here off and on, as I told you once, and
this year Jeems and I thought we'd do our summer sketching here, and
sort of revive old times. So we packed up and came."
"I'm mighty glad you came, anyway," replied Bennington fervently.
"So'm I. We're just in time to help foil the villain. As foilers Jeems
and I are an artistic success. We have studied foiling under the best
masters in the Bowery and Sixth Avenue theatres."
"Where's Bill?" asked Jim suddenly.
"Will be around in the morning. You're to report progress at once.
Didn't dare to come up until after the row. Dreadful anxious though.
Would have come if Jeems and I hadn't forbidden it."
Bennington wondered vaguely who Bill might be, but he was beginning to
feel a little tired from the excitement and his wound, so he said
nothing.
"The next thing is grub," remarked Fay, rising and gathering his pony's
reins. "I'll mosey up to the shack and see about supper. You fellows
can sit around and talk until I get organized."
He turned to move away, leading his horse.
"Hold on a minute, Jim," called Bert. "You might lend me your bronc,
and I'll lope down and set Bill's mind easy. It won't take long."
"Good scheme!" approved Jim heartily. "That's thoughtful of you,
Bertie!"
He dropped the reins where he stood, and the pony, with the usual
well-trained Western docility, hung his head and halted. Bert arose and
looked down the shaft.
"Supper will be served shortly, gentlemen," he observed suavely. He
turned toward the pony.
"Bert," called Bennington in a different voice, "did you say you were
going down the gulch?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to do something for me?"
"Why, surely. What is it?"
"Would you just as soon stop at the Lawtons' and tell Miss Lawton for
me that it's all right! You'll find the Lawton house----"