There came a sound of galloping, up on the hill, and he turned quickly. Dull dusk was settling bleakly down upon the land, but he could see three or four horsemen just making the first descent from the top. He shouted a wordless greeting, and heard their answering yells. In another minute or two they were pulling up at the house, where he had hurried to meet them. Val, tucking a side comb hastily into her freshly coiled hair, her pretty self clothed all in white linen, appeased eagerly in the doorway.
“Why—where's Manley?” she demanded anxiously.
Blumenthall was dismounting near her, and he touched his hat before he answered. “We were on the way home, and we thought we'd better ride around this way and see how you came out,” he evaded. “I see you lost your hay and buildings—pretty close call for the house, too, I should judge. You must have got here in time to do something, Kent.”
“But where's Manley?” Val was growing pale again. “Has anything happened? Is he hurt? Tell me!”
“Oh, he's all right, Mrs. Fleetwood.” Blumenthall glanced meaningly at Kent—and Fred De Garmo, sitting to one side of his saddle, looked at Polycarp Jenks and smiled slightly. “We left town ahead of him, and knocked right along.”
Val regarded the group suspiciously. “He's coming, then, is he?”
“Oh, certainly. Glad you're all right, Mrs. Fleetwood. That was an awful fire—it swept the whole country clean between the two rivers, I'm afraid. This wind made it bad.” He was tightening his cinch, and now he unhooked the stirrup from the horn and mounted again. “We'll have to be getting along—don't know, yet, how we came out of it over to the ranch. But our guards ought to have stopped it there.” He looked at Kent. “How did the Wishbone make it?” he inquired.
“I was just going to ask you if you knew,” Kent replied, scowling because he saw Fred looking at Val in what he considered an impertinent manner. “My horse ran off while I was fighting fire here, so I'm afoot. I was waiting for Man to show up.”
“You'll git all of that you want—he-he!” Polycarp cut in tactlessly. “Man won't git home t'-night—not unless—”
“Aw, come on.” Fred started along the charred trail which led across the coulee and up the farther side. Blumenthall spoke a last, commonplace sentence or two, just to round off the conversation and make the termination not too abrupt, and they rode away, with Polycarp glancing curiously back, now and then, as though he was tempted to stay and gossip, and yet was anxious to know all that had happened at the Double Diamond.