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"But what do you fear, brother? What could have happened to her?" "Gollies!" exulted Maurice. Then uncertainty in his tones, "A feller 'ud have to be a mighty good shot to do that though, Bill." The door opened and her husband entered. He cast a quick, apprehensive glance at his wife, and the low whistle died on his lips as he passed over to the long roller towel hanging above the wash-bench and proceeded to dry his hands. "Aw, say, Bill," protested Maurice, "I'm tired an' wet as a water-logged plank. Let her go. I'll tell Dad, an' he kin come after her tomorrow.".