"Not a sign of her. Swan, I don't know what to make of it. I did think them two were stalling. I thought they either hadn't seen her at all, or had got hold of her and were trying to square themselves on the insanity dodge. But if they know where she is, they're acting damn queer, Swan. They want her. They haven't got her yet."
"They're in the house," Swan reassured Lone. "I heard them walking. You don't think they've got her there, Lone?"
"If they have," gritted Lone, "they made the biggest blunder of their lives bringing me over here. No, I could see they wanted to get off alone and hold a powwow. They expected she'd be at the Quirt."
"I think Al Woodruff, he's maybe got her, then," Swan declared, after studying the matter briefly. "All the way he follows the trail over here, Lone. I could see you sometimes in the trail. He was keeping hid from the trail—I think because Raine was riding along, this morning, and he's following. The tracks are that old."
"They said they had trailed Raine this far, coming from the Sawtooth," Lone told him worriedly. "What do you think Al would want——"
"Don't she see him shoot Fred Thurman? By golly, I'm scared for that girl, Loney!"
Lone stared at him. "He wouldn't dare!"
"A coward is a brave man when you scare him bad enough," Swan stated flatly. "I'm careful always when I corner a coward."
"Al ain't a coward. You've got him wrong."
"Maybe, but he kills like a coward would kill, and he's scared he will be caught. Warfield, he's scared, too. You watch him, Lone.