“Yes, that’s my name,” he said. “Were you looking for me? What’s the matter?”
Hilda’s gasping had moderated. She drew in as much breath as she was able and spoke clearly:
“An outfit came in this morning after your cattle—”
“What outfit?”
“I don’t know. They came in this morning. They cut our fence and made Uncle Hank begin work right away.”
Marchbanks bent forward sharply, Tarpy, the cook, beside him. The two boys who had brought the bedding roll leaned frankly over the others’ shoulders.
“Uncle Hank—they didn’t act right—he sent me here. We thought, when they wouldn’t road-brand—”
“You’re a good girl,” said the colonel; “I’ll thank you later.”
Then he stood up, ordering:
“Get the hobbles off the best horses. Every man saddle his own. All come with me but Tarpy and Slim. Tarpy,” he spoke in a lower tone to the cook, “you stay with the little girl. If she gets able to go back home and wants to [Hilda tried to say, ‘I do,’ but no sound came], have Slim put her saddle on my sorrel, and ride over, easy, with her.” Then he turned to question her again: