“He—he said you lived over there,” Beatrice finished, pointing, as Dorman had pointed—which was not toward the “Cross” ranch at all, but straight toward the river.
Keith wheeled Redcloud; there was no need to hear more. He took the hill at a pace which would have killed any horse but one bred to race over this rough country. Near the top, the forced breathing of another horse at his heels made him look behind. It was Beatrice following, her eyes like black stars. I do not know if Keith was astonished, but I do know that he was pleased.
“Where's Dick?” was all he said then.
“Dick's going to meet the men—the cowboys. Sir Redmond went after them, when they found Dorman wasn't anywhere about the place.”
Keith nodded understandingly, and slowed to let her come alongside.
“It's no use riding in bunches,” he remarked, after a little. “On circle we always go in pairs. We'll find him, all right.”
“We must,” said Beatrice, simply, and shaded her eyes with her hand. For they had reached the top, and the prairie land lay all about them and below, lazily asleep in the sunshine.
Keith halted and reached for his glass. “It's lucky I brought it along,” he said. “I wasn't thinking, at the time; I just slung it over my shoulder from habit.”
“It's a good habit, I think,” she answered, trying to smile; but her lips would only quiver, for the thought of her blame tortured her. “Can you see—anything?” she ventured wistfully.
Keith shook his head, and continued his search. “There are so many little washouts and coulees, down there, you know. That's the trouble with a glass—it looks only on a level. But we'll find him. Don't you worry about that. He couldn't go far.”