"We had started off to look for Dick when we met your man," said Shirley,
standing on the steps, rein in hand.
"What has happened, and how was Armitage injured?" demanded Judge
Claiborne.
"There was a battle," replied Dick, grinning, "and Mr. Armitage got in
the way of a bullet."
Her ride through the keen morning air had flooded Shirley's cheeks with
color. She wore a dark blue skirt and a mackintosh with the collar turned
up about her neck, and a red scarf at her throat matched the band of her
soft felt hat. She drew off her gauntlets and felt in her pocket for a
handkerchief with which to brush some splashes of mud that had dried on
her cheek, and the action was so feminine, and marked so abrupt a
transition from the strange business of the night and morning, that
Armitage and Dick laughed and Judge Claiborne turned upon them
frowningly.
Shirley had been awake much of the night. On returning from the ball at
the inn she found Dick still absent, and when at six o'clock he had not
returned she called her father and they had set off together for the
hills, toward which, the stablemen reported, Dick had ridden.
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