Part 42 (2/2)

”Mother! Why, Mother,” he cried, in mingled gladness and distress.

”It's me. I'm all right. What'd you think? ... h.e.l.lo, Bobby, old dirty face... Alice, don't stare at me. I'm here in the flesh.”

His mother clung to him with hands like steel. Her face and eyes were both terrible and wonderful to see. ”Pan! Pan! You're alive? Oh, thank G.o.d! They told us you'd been shot.”

”Me? Well, I guess not. I'm better than ever, and full of good news,”

went on Pan hurriedly. ”Brace up, Mother. People are looking.

There... Dad is out home. We've got a lot to do. Where's Lucy?”

”Oh, G.o.d--my son, my son!” cried Mrs. Smith, her eyes rolling.

”_Hush_!” burst out Pan, with a shock as if a blade had pierced his heart. He shook her not gently. ”_Where_ is Lucy?”

His mother seemed impelled by his spirit, and she wheeled to point up the street.

”Lucy! There--in that stage--leaving Marco!”

”For G.o.d's--sake!” gasped Pan. ”What's this? Lucy! Where's she going?”

”Ask her yourself,” she cried pa.s.sionately.

Something terrible seemed to crash inside Pan. Catastrophe! It was here. His mother's dark eyes held love, pity, and pa.s.sion, which last was not for him.

”Mother, go home at once,” he said swiftly. ”Tell Dad to rush buying those wagons. You and Alice pack. We shake the dust of this d.a.m.ned town. Don't worry. Lucy will leave with _us_!”

Then Pan broke into long springy strides, almost a run. Indeed Blinky had to run to keep up with him. ”I told you, pard,” said his comrade.

huskily. ”h.e.l.l to pay! ---- ---- the luck!”

Pan had only one conscious thought--to see Lucy. All else seemed damming behind flood gates.

People rushed into the street to get out of the way of the cowboys.

Others stared and made gestures. Booted men on the porch of the Yellow Mine stamped noisily as they trooped to get inside. Voices of alarm and mirth rang out. Pan took only a fleeting glance into the wide doorway. He saw nothing, thought nothing. His stride quickened as he pa.s.sed Black's store, where more men crowded to get inside.

”Save your--wind, pard,” warned Blinky. ”You might--need it.”

They reached the end of the street and across the wide square stood the outgoing stage, before the express office. There was no driver on the front seat. Smith, the agent, was emerging from the office with mailbags.

”Slow up, pard,” whispered Blinky, at Pan's elbow.

Pan did as he was advised, though his stride still retained speed.

Impossible to go slowly! There were pa.s.sengers in the stagecoach.

When Pan reached the middle of the street he saw the gleam of golden hair that he knew. Lucy! Her back was turned to him. And as he recognized her, realized he had found her, there burst forth in his mind a thundering clamor of questioning voices.

A few more strides took him round the stage. Men backed away from him.

The door was open.

”_Lucy_!” he called, and his voice seemed to come piercingly from a far-off place.

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