So she closed the screen door behind her, careful that it should not slam, and ran down the path in the heavy dusk wherein crickets were rasping a strident chorus.
"Oh! It's you, is it, Lone ?" she exclaimed, when she neared the vague figure of a man unsaddling a horse.

"You didn't see Frank coming anywhere, did you?
Dad won't have his supper until Frank comes with the things I sent for.

He's late." Lone was lifting the saddle off the back of John Doe, which he had bought from the Sawtooth because he was fond of the horse.

He hesitated and replaced the saddle, pulling the blanket straight under it.
"I saw him coming an hour ago," he said.

"I was back up on the ridge, and I saw a team turn into the Quirt trail from the ford.