Part 33 (2/2)
”Mornin', ma'am,” he said, with suave inflection.
”Good morning,” Peggy replied.
”Fine snowy mornin'.”
”It is so.” She was a little irritated by the fixed stare of his round, gray eyes.
He became more direct. ”May I ask who you are and how you happen to be here, ma'am?”
”You may. I'm Mrs. Adams. I came up here with my husband, Professor Adams.”
”Where is he?”
”He has gone up the trail toward Fremont. He is a botanist.”
”Is that his horse's tracks?”
Alice called sharply, ”Peggy!”
Mrs. Adams turned abruptly and went in.
The stranger turned a slow gaze upon his companion. ”Well, this beats me. 'Pears like we're on the wrong trail, Bob. I reckon we've just naturally overhauled a bunch of tourists.”
”Better go in and see what's inside,” suggested the other man, slipping from his horse.
”All right. You stay where you are.”
As he stepped to the door and rapped, Peggy opened it, but Alice took up the inquiry.
”What do you want?” she asked, imperiously.
The man, after looking keenly about, quietly replied: ”I'm wonderin' how you women come to be here alone, but first of all I want to know who made them tracks outside the door?”
Alice ignored the latter part of his question and set about satisfying his wonder. ”We came up here with a geological survey, but my horse fell on my foot and I couldn't ride, so the men had to leave me behind--”
”Alone?” sharply interrogated the man.
”No; one man stayed.”
”What was his name?”
”I don't know. We called him Smith.”
”Was he the man that rode away this morning?”
”What does that matter to you?” asked the girl. ”Why are you so inquisitive?”
He maintained his calm tone of mild authority. ”I'm the sheriff of Uinta County, ma'am, and I'm looking for a man who's been hiding out in this basin. I was trailin' him close when the snow came on yesterday, and I didn't know but what these tracks was his.”
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