ride. An' by takin' to the mountains Milt can hide his tracks. An' when he's thrown Anson off the scent, then he'll circle down to Pine."
"Mr. Dale, do you think you'll get us there safely—and soon?" asked Helen, wistfully.
"I won't promise soon, but I promise safe. An' I don't like bein' called Mister," he replied.
"Are we ever going to eat?" inquired Bo, demurely.
At this query Roy Beeman turned with a laugh to look at Bo. Helen saw his face fully in the light, and it was thin and hard, darkly bronzed, with eyes like those of a hawk, and with square chin and lean jaws showing scant, light beard.
"We shore are," he replied. "Soon as we reach the timber. Thet won't be long."
"Reckon we can rustle some an' then take a good rest," said Dale, and he urged his horse into a jog-trot.
During a steady trot for a long hour, Helen's roving eyes were everywhere, taking note of the things from near to far—the scant sage that soon gave place to as scanty a grass, and the dark blots that proved to be dwarf cedars, and the ravines opening out as if by magic from what had appeared level ground, to wind away widening between gray stone walls, and farther on, patches of lonely pine-trees, two and three together, and then a straggling clump of yellow aspens, and up beyond the fringed border of forest, growing nearer all the while, the black sweeping benches rising to the noble dome of the dominant mountain of the range.
No birds or animals were seen in that long ride up toward the timber, which fact seemed strange to Helen. The air lost something of its cold, cutting edge as the sun rose higher, and it gained sweeter tang of forest-land. The first faint suggestion of that fragrance was utterly new to Helen, yet it brought a vague sensation of familiarity and with it an emotion as strange. It was as if she had smelled that keen, pungent tang long ago, and her physical sense caught it before her memory.
The yellow plain had only appeared to be level. Roy led down into a shallow ravine, where a tiny stream meandered, and he followed this around to the left, coming at length to a point where cedars and dwarf pines formed a little grove. Here, as the others rode up, he sat cross-legged in his saddle, and waited.
"We'll hang up awhile," he said. "Reckon you're tired?"
"I'm hungry, but not tired yet," replied Bo.
Helen dismounted, to find that walking was something she had apparently lost the power to do. Bo laughed at her, but she, too, was awkward when once more upon the ground.
Then Roy got down. Helen was surprised to find him lame. He caught her quick glance.
"A hoss threw me once an' rolled on me. Only broke my collar-bone, five ribs, one arm, an' my bow-legs in two places!"
Notwithstanding this evidence that he was a cripple, as he stood there tall and lithe in his homespun, ragged garments, he looked singularly powerful and capable.
"Reckon walkin' around would be good for you girls," advised Dale. "If you ain't stiff yet, you'll be soon. An' walkin' will help. Don't go far. I'll call when breakfast's ready."
A little while later the girls were whistled in from their walk and found camp-fire and meal awaiting them. Roy was sitting cross-legged, like an Indian, in front of a tarpaulin, upon which was spread a homely but substantial fare. Helen's quick eye detected a cleanliness and thoroughness she had scarcely expected to find in the camp cooking of men of the wilds. Moreover, the fare was good. She ate heartily, and as for Bo's appetite, she was inclined to be as much ashamed of that as amused at it. The young men were all eyes, assiduous in their service to the girls, but speaking seldom. It was not lost upon Helen how Dale's gray gaze went often down across the open country. She divined apprehension from it rather than saw much expression in it.
"I—declare," burst out Bo, when she could not eat any more, "this isn't believable. I'm dreaming.... Nell, the black horse you rode is the prettiest I ever saw."
Ranger, with the other animals, was grazing along the little brook. Packs and saddles had been removed. The men ate leisurely. There was little evidence of hurried flight. Yet Helen could not cast off uneasiness. Roy might have been deep, and careless, with a motive to spare the girls' anxiety, but Dale seemed incapable of anything he did not absolutely mean.
"Rest or walk," he advised the girls. "We've got forty miles to ride before dark."
Helen preferred to rest, but Bo walked about, petting the horses and prying into the packs. She was curious and eager.
Dale and Roy talked in low tones while they cleaned up the utensils and packed them away in a heavy canvas bag.
"You really expect Anson 'll strike my trail this mornin'?" Dale was asking.
"I shore do," replied Roy.
"An' how do you figure that so soon?"
"How'd you figure it—if you was Snake Anson?" queried Roy, in reply.
"Depends on that rider from Magdalena," Said Dale, soberly. "Although it's likely I'd seen them wheel tracks an' hoss tracks made where we turned off. But supposin' he does."
"Milt, listen. I told you Snake met us boys face to face day before yesterday in Show Down. An' he was plumb curious."
"But he missed seein' or hearin' about me," replied Dale.
"Mebbe he did an' mebbe he didn't. Anyway, what's the difference whether he finds out this mornin' or this evenin'?"
"Then you ain't expectin' a fight if Anson holds up the stage?"
"Wal, he'd have to shoot first, which ain't likely. John an' Hal, since thet shootin'-scrape a year ago, have been sort of gun-shy. Joe might get riled. But I reckon the best we can be shore of is a delay. An' it'd be sense not to count on thet."
"Then you hang up here an' keep watch for Anson's gang—say long enough so's to be sure they'd be in sight if they find our tracks this mornin'. Makin' sure one way or another, you ride 'cross-country to Big Spring, where I'll camp to-night."
Roy nodded approval of that suggestion. Then without more words both men picked up ropes and went after the horses. Helen was watching Dale, so that when Bo cried out in great excitement Helen turned to see a savage yellow little mustang standing straight up on his hind legs and pawing the air. Roy had roped him and was now dragging him into camp.
"Nell, look at that for a wild pony!" exclaimed Bo.
Helen busied herself getting well out of the way of the infuriated mustang. Roy dragged him to a cedar near by.
"Come now, Buckskin," said Roy, soothingly, and he slowly approached the quivering animal. He went closer, hand over hand, on the lasso. Buckskin showed the whites of his eyes and also his white teeth. But he stood while Roy loosened the loop and, slipping it down over his head, fastened it in a complicated knot round his nose.
"Thet's a hackamore," he said, indicating the knot. "He's never had a bridle, an' never will have one, I reckon."
"You don't ride him?" queried Helen.
"Sometimes I do," replied Roy, with a smile. "Would you girls like to try him?"
"Excuse me," answered Helen.
"Gee!" ejaculated Bo.
