"Wasn't that him?" Sorry repeated uneasily. "What took him off again in such a rush?"
"Oh, I don't know! He said Frank should have been here long ago. He went to look for him. Sorry," she cried suddenly, "what is the matter with this place? I feel as if something horrible was just ready to jump out at us all. I—I want my back against something solid, all the time, so that nothing can creep up behind. Nothing," she added desperately, "could happen to Frank between here and the turn-off at the ford, could it? Lone saw him turn into our trail over an hour ago, he said."
Sorry, his fingers thrust into his overalls pockets, his thumbs hooked over the waistband, spat into the sand beside the path. "Well, he started off with a cracked doubletree," he said slowly. "He mighta busted 'er pullin' through that sand hollow. She was wired up pretty good, though, and there was more wire in the rig. I don't know of anything else that'd be liable to happen, unless——"
"Unless what?" Lorraine prompted sharply. "There's too much that isn't talked about, on this ranch. What else could happen?"
Sorry edged away from her. "Well—I dunno as anything would be liable to happen," he said uncomfortably. "'Tain't likely him 'n' Brit'd both have accidents—not right hand-runnin'."
"Accidents?" Lorraine felt her throat squeeze together. "Sorry, you don't mean—Sawtooth accidents?" she blurted.
She surprised a grunt out of Sorry, who looked over his shoulder as if he feared eavesdroppers. "Where'd you git that idee?" he demanded. "I dunno what you mean. Ain't that yore dad callin' yuh?"
Lorraine ignored the hint. "You do know what I mean. Why did you say they wouldn't both be likely to have accidents hand-running? And why don't you do something? Why does everyone just keep still and let things happen, and not say a word? If there's any chance of Frank having an—an accident, I should think you'd be out looking after him, and not standing there with your hands in your pockets just waiting to see if he shows up or if he doesn't show up. You're all just like these rabbits out in the sage. You'll hide under a bush and wait until you're almost stepped on before you so much as wiggle an ear! I'm getting good and tired of this meek business!"
"We-ell," Sorry drawled amiably as she went past him, "playin' rabbit-under-a-bush mebby don't look purty, but it's dern good life insurance."
"A coward's policy," Lorraine taunted him over her shoulder, and went to see what her father wanted. When he, too, wanted to know why Lone had come and gone again in such a hurry, Lorraine felt all the courage go out of her at once. Their very uneasiness seemed to prove that there was more than enough cause for it. Yet, when she forced herself to stop and think, it was all about nothing. Frank had driven to Echo and had not returned exactly on time, though a dozen things might have detained him.