“Is Stlingbloke any bloker?”
“I can’t see it. The buttes hide it. But Mangan-Hatton is simply flat.”
“Oh, dear!”
“And the sand is blowing over the dry lakes till the clouds of it are sometimes so heavy I can’t make anything out.”
“See any signs of a search party?”
“None at all.”
“Well, come down. If you can see the adobe at Squawtooth, that’s all we care about. We’ll make up signals for them to observe, and we’ll tell ’em when to signal. Then you can climb up where everything’s ready, and get what they have to say through the glasses.”
Falcon the Flunky monkeyed down to her, hand under hand.
“We’ll not throw the noose off,” she stipulated. “Now come in out of the wind, and we’ll write our message to Pa Squawtooth and include a secret one to Mr. Podhead Mart.”
“Are you a witch?” he asked, as he followed her in among the rocks.