“I’ve been watching your outfit, and I’ve been watching the reds for nearly two hours,” said Vipan. “They mean’t jumping you yonder at the creek, and would have done so before this if you had not changed your plan, and camped here. As near as I can count, there are about three hundred of them. See that butte away up there? That’s where I’ve been located. Came down to warn you—none too soon, either.”
“No, indeed. We owe you a debt of gratitude we can never repay, myself especially. Good God, if harm had befallen Miss Santorex! I can’t even stand the idea of it.”
“Relative of yours?” said the other shortly.
“No. She’s the sister of a neighbour of ours—man who runs the adjoining ranch. She’s come out from England to stay with her brother for a bit, and took the opportunity of travelling with us. And—if anything had happened—good God, if anything had happened! It’s an awful responsibility, and I devoutly wish we were safe through it. Now, I think, we may go and get some supper.”
Major Winthrop, as we have said, was English. He had retired early from the service, and being an energetic fellow had soon found an unoccupied life pall upon him. Accordingly he had migrated to the Far West and started ranching—a life that suited him thoroughly. His wife, a pretty little vivacious brunette, was American. She was considerably his junior, and they had not been long married; and at the time we make their acquaintance were returning from a visit to her home in the Eastern States.
“My! what a fine-looking fellow!” she whispered to her friend, as she watched the approach of her husband’s guest. “Why, Yseulte, it was worth while getting into a fix to be rescued by such a knight-errant as that.”
To her surprise the colour came to the girl’s face—visible in the moonlight—as she answered:
“What nonsense, Hettie! Do be quiet, or they’ll hear you.”
“I ought to scold you severely, Miss Santorex, for running such an awful risk,” said Winthrop, as they sat down to supper, picnic fashion, beside the horse waggon which served as the ladies’ bedroom, saloon, and boudoir—and in bad weather, dining-room—all run into one.
“Please don’t, for I assure you I’m very penitent,” she answered.