Riding into the
yard that was fenced only by the wild growth, he was greeted cordially by
the woman with the disfigured face, who was seated on the porch.
"Howdy, Myra," he called in return, as he swung from the saddle; and
leaving the chestnut to roam at will, he went to the porch, his spurs
clinking softly over the short, thick grass.
"Where's Sibyl?" he asked, seating himself on the top step.
"I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Oakley," the woman answered, smiling. "You
really didn't expect me to, did you?"
The Ranger laughed. "Did she take gun, basket, rod or violin? If I know
whether she's gone shooting berrying, fishing or fiddling, it may give me
a clue--or did she take all four?"
The woman watched him closely. "She took only her violin. She went
sometime after lunch--down the canyon, I think. Do you wish particularly
to see her, Mr. Oakley?"
It was evident to the woman that the officer was relieved. "Oh, no; she
wouldn't be going far with her violin. If she went down the canyon, it's
all right anyway. But I stopped in to tell the girl that she must be
careful, for a while. There's an escaped convict ranging somewhere in my
district. I received the word this morning, and have been up around Lone
Cabin and Burnt Pine and the head of Clear Creek to see if I could start
anything.
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