"What's the matter? Anything
wrong with Sibyl or Myra Willard? What brings you up here, this time of
night?"
Aaron King heard the questions with sinking heart. But so certain had he
come to feel that the girl would be at the Station, that he said
mechanically, as he dropped wearily from his horse to grasp his friend's
hand, "I followed Sibyl. How long has she been here?"
Brian Oakley spoke quickly; "Sibyl is not here, Aaron."
The artist caught the Ranger's arm. "Do you mean, Brian, that she has not
been here to-day?"
"She has not been here," returned the officer, coolly.
"Good God!" exclaimed the other, stunned and bewildered by the positive
words. Blindly, he turned toward his horse.
Brian Oakley, stepping forward, put his hand on the artist's shoulder.
"Come, old man, pull yourself together and let a little light in on this
matter," he said calmly. "Tell me what has happened. Why did you expect to
find Sibyl here?"
When Aaron King had finished his story, the other said, still without
excitement, "Come into the house. You're about all in. I heard Doctor
Gordan's 'auto' going up the canyon to Morton's about an hour ago. Their
baby's sick. If Sibyl was on the road, he would have passed her.
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