The Fighting Shepherdess

"Think!" she urged. "Say it out loud, Mullendore--the name of the town you'd put on the postal if you were going to write to the 'Old Man.'"

His lips moved to speak, and then somewhat as if the habit of secrecy asserted itself even in his delirium, he checked himself with an expression of obstinacy on his face.

Kate's hand crept to his shoulder and clutched it tight.

"Tell me, Pete!" She shook him hard. "Say it--quick!"

He muttered thickly: "What for?"

"You're a liar, Pete Mullendore!" she taunted. "You don't know. You haven't any idea where Katie Prentice's father lives!"

The gibe brought no response; yet slowly, so gradually that it was not possible to tell when it began, a look that was wholly rational came into his eyes. He blinked, touched his dry lips with his dry tongue and, turning his head, recognized her without surprise.

"Git me a drink."

She held a dipper to his lips.

He fixed his eyes upon her face.

"I been sick?"

"Spotted fever."

He stirred slightly.

"What's this?" A weak astonishment was in his voice as he felt a rope across his arms and chest.

"To keep you in bed."

"I been--loony?"

She nodded.

He looked at her quizzically.

"Emptied my sack?"

"You've talked."

He lay motionless, staring at her fixedly; then, as if arriving at a conclusion: "Guess I didn't say much."

"You said plenty," significantly.

"But not enough, eh?" he jeered.

She regarded him silently.

"Where am I, anyhow?"

"In my camp."

"Oh." He considered a moment, then mocked, "Got religion?"

"Not yet," curtly.

"Jest wanted me close? Ol' friends are the best friends--ain't they?" He grinned weakly at her.

"Pete," slowly, "there are some questions I want to ask you."

"Thought it was about time for the pumps to start. What do you want to know?"

Kate's heart leaped. She endeavored to steady her voice, to keep out of her face the eagerness with which she trembled, as she replied: "I want to know who my father is--where he is, if he's alive. Oh, Pete!" Her hands came together beseechingly, "Tell me that--I beg of you tell me about him."

Satisfaction glistened in his eyes.

"I thought that would be it! The only civil words I ever got out of you when you was a kid was when you hoped to make me loosen up and talk to you about him." Then he asked again with an expression she could not interpret, "You're sure you'd ruther I give up that than anything else on earth?"

"Yes, Pete!" she gulped. "It means so much to me."

"I guess yes. The ground wouldn't be good enough for your feet if the 'Old Man' had you."