"Wouldn't there be room on behind?" asked Miss Allen with
hope still alive and flourishing.
"Lots of room," Weary assured her. "More room than you could
possibly use."
"But isn't there any kind of a rig that you could buy, beg,
borrow or steal?" Miss Hallman insisted. "These girls came
from Wisconsin to take up claims, and I've promised to see
that they get the best there is to be had. They are hustlers,
if I know what the word means. I have a couple of claims in
mind, that I want them to see--and that's why we three hung
back till the rest were all arranged for. I had a rig
promised that I was depending on, and at the last minute
discovered it was not to be had. Some doctor from Havre came
and got it for a trip into the hills. There's no use talking;
we just must get out to the tract as soon as the others do--a
little sooner wouldn't hurt. Couldn't you think of some way?"
"We'll try," Irish promised rashly, his eyes tying to meet
Miss Allen's and succeeding admirably.
"What has become of Mr. Green?" Miss Hallman demanded after
she had thanked Irish with a smile for the qualified
encouragement.
"We don't know,," Weary answered mildly. "We were trying to
locate him ourselves."
"Oh, were you? He seems a rather uncertain young man.
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