"What in the mischief are you doing in the saddle this time of night?" he demanded.
"Oh, that's nothing! I get out of bed sometimes and saddle up for a moonlight ride. I love it."
"But—"
"Here they come! I wanted to get here ahead of them and warn you to pretend you were expecting them. You're—you're supposed to know."
"I'm supposed to know what?"
"About the Mona Fiesta. It's to be observed here on the Old Ivison Place. It always is. And—and you're supposed to know it."
"How explicit you aren't! Well, what—"
"Sh! There they are! I can't explain now."
Oliver's thoughts were moving swiftly, and he did not put them aside even when he saw his gate being opened to a large company of horsemen.
"I've got you," he said. "Your little attempt at subterfuge has failed again. Those are the Showut Poche-dakas coming?"