"So should I. Let's send 'em along a little faster."
They had by this time reached the opening in the chaparral into which their shadow had dodged. By common consent they passed it without looking to right or left.
"He may imagine we didn't see him," whispered Jessamy. "I hope he does."
There was an open stretch ahead of them, and across it they galloped, the girl piercing the thickets on the right in search of a saddle horse, Oliver sweeping the slopes that descended to the river. But neither saw a horse, and in the trail were no hoofprints not made by their own mounts.
"He has been afoot from the start," decided Jessamy. "I wish I knew whether or not it was Digger Foss."
They wound their way down to Sulphur Spring presently, and came to a halt in the ravine below it.
"Now," said Oliver, "who knows but that my sniper is not hidden up there in the hills?"
"I'll look for that bullet," she purposed, and swung out of her saddle.
"Oh, no you won't!" His foot touched the ground with hers.
"Yes—listen! No one would shoot at me. But they might take another crack at you, even with me along to witness it. If they were hidden and could get away unseen, you know. But they'd not shoot at me."