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50The Hunting of Bud Howlandwood, the green of pepper-trees and palmettos,a rude corral, and as we roundedthe shoulder of a hillock, the cool gray ofan adobe ranch-house with a piraticalfigure in the doorway. We were at Pedro's."But why didn't you go on with theothers?" I demanded an hour afterwardas we lay at ease in the shade. "It's nouse telling me you changed your mind.That's—that's ""That's bunk, says you." Hank wasrefilling his pipe. "Well, you're right.I didn't change my mind, leastways notthen. Had it changed all the time, youmight say. I felt the same as you did,only I judged it would be right wise tokeep along with 'em for a ways—anyhowuntil they'd got started for Seven Palms.And they're started, all right; plumbtired out, lying all over that smoking-car.I just made as if I was going to wave toyou from the platform, and the rest waseasy. Swung off on the far side and gotbehind that runway. They ain't missedme yet, probably." He paused, a faint,sheepish grin on his face. "You had melocoed, though. I'd figured on gettingaway by myself; but it was too gosh-awfulhot to wait on you. I had to come out.""You might just as well be talkingNavajo, for all I can make of it," I brokeout, impatiently. "They were yourfriends, weren't they? Well, then, whydid you "" My friends ? " he echoed, with a queercombination of scowl and grin. " I neversee 'em afore, not till we-all met at thehotel in Seven Palms. I just fell in withthe rest of you when that big Morriswanted to go hunting. I hadn't nospecial plans."" But what do you mean by saying youfelt the same as I did?" I insisted. "Ididn't care about seeing any of them again—that is,except you; but that's all I felt."" Sure, that's all," he assented, noddingplacidly. "We ain't neither of us muchon the talk, you and me," he added, witha shrewd look.I sat up, facing him." See here, Hank, talk straight. What'swrong with those fellows?""They're all right, I guess, accordingto their lights. Live and let live," he answeredwith utmost contentment, eyeson the curling smoke from his pipe."Only, I'm telling you I don't want to bemixed up in it any more than you do.""Mixed up in what?" I cried. I hadleft off smoking and was giving my wholeattention to this enigma."In the trial," he said calmly. "Idon't aim to be no witness.""Trial—witness!" I could only stareat him, my thoughts going in circles.There had been five of us on the porchof the Eagle Hotel in Seven Palms. Allwere ordinary men, with no hint of melodramain manner, dress, or character.The landlord had proposed a hunting trip•—to get us out of his wife's way duringthe house-cleaning, he admitted; and wehad all jumped at the chance. On thethird day out we had overtaken anotherman, a lone hunter, who had remainedwith us to the end, going on to SevenPalms with the landlord and the two cowboys.We had killed some deer; therehad been some fancy target-shooting—the best I ever saw—and that was all.No accidents, no quarrels, nothing. Thetrip had been so uneventful that I hadfelt disappointed and a little aggrieved.Yet it was now becoming clear to me,clearer with every moment, that the faulthad not been with the country or mycompanions, but with myself. Somethingworth while had been going on—only Ihad been too dull to know it.But how was I to get at the truth?Direct questioning would not carry me farwith the placid, cautious man stretchedout beside me. I must use a lightertouch than that.So I chuckled as if to myself."A mighty queer business," I murmured."Yes?" Hank returned, half openinghis eyes."I didn't suppose you had caught onat all," I said easily. "I wasn't wise atfirst, myself.""So you wasn't," he observed, watchingme narrowly. "I seen you wasn't.""How do you suppose it will comeout?" I asked, with a meditative air."Holy snakes!" cursed Hank softly,almost in sorrow." Glad I wasn't mixed up in it myself,"I concluded airily."Snakes!" he shouted, pounding hisknee with his sombrero. "He's aimingto pump me, the perfessor is!" He ad-