Part 13 (1/2)

His eventless course had continued some minutes before a thought came to him of the direction he was following, with the possibility that he was wrong.

”I wonder if we are on the right track, Queenie?” he said, addressing his animal, as was his custom when they were alone. ”It would be strange if we didn't drift away from our bearings. h.e.l.lo! that can't be d.i.c.k Hawkridge's ranch; we haven't gone far enough for that; but what the mischief can it be, unless a fire that some one has started in the open?”

The starlike twinkle of a point of light suddenly shone out directly in advance. It puzzled him by appearing only for a moment, when it vanished as quickly as it entered his field of vision.

This fact suggested that it was within some dwelling and had been extinguished, or was shut from sight by being moved past a window or open door to another point in the interior.

”We are so near, Queenie, we may as well go farther,” he added, not unmindful of his danger from those who were making such a hot search for him. He kept his horse on a walk, maintaining a keen watch between the dainty ears that were already p.r.i.c.ked up as if she knew something was likely to happen quite soon.

Advancing in this deliberate fas.h.i.+on, the outline of one of those long, low wooden structures so common in the West was gradually defied in the moonlight, and he knew he was approaching the home of some ranchman.

But whose? was the question that perplexed him. He recalled that some of his travelling had been done at a high rate of speed, but the distance between the Whitney and Hawkridge ranches was fully a dozen miles, and he was sure that that s.p.a.ce had not been covered by him since bidding his friends good-by earlier in the evening, especially as he had not followed a direct course.

”Can it be?” he exclaimed, with a sudden suspicion. ”Yes, by gracious!

What a blunder!”

The exclamation was caused by the sight of a young man, with one arm in a sling, who came forward to welcome him.

He had returned to the Whitney home, which he supposed was miles away, and this was his old friend Fred, who came smilingly forward and said, as he recognized him:

”I am glad, indeed, to see you, Mont; we heard the sound of the firing and feared that something had happened to you.”

”Nothing at all, thank you, and nothing to Queenie--but that reminds me,” he added, slipping out of the saddle; ”she acted once as though she had been hit, though it wasn't bad enough to show itself in her gait.”

The two made a hasty examination but discovered nothing; proof that, as her owner said, the wound, if any, was too slight to trouble her.

”Fred, what do you think of my coming back to you in this fas.h.i.+on?”

abruptly asked Sterry, with a laugh, looking around in his friend's face.

”The most sensible thing you could have done; it redeems your foolishness in leaving us as you did.”

”But my return was involuntary.”

”How was that?”

”I thought I was miles distant, and had no idea of my location until I caught the outlines of your house; I a.s.sure you I contemplated no such performance as this.”

”Well, you're here, so what's the use of talking unless you mean to mount your mare and try it again.”

”Hardly that; I have too much mercy on her.”

The couple walked past the dwelling to the rude but roomy shelter at the rear where the horses were sometimes placed when not in use, or when the severity of the weather made the protection necessary. There the saddle, bridle and trappings were removed from the mare, and she was made comfortable. Then the two returned to their seats at the front of the building, to smoke and chat a few minutes before retiring for the night.

CHAPTER XIII.

A CONSULTATION.