The shallow crossing over which she had ridden many times was not far away, and when she stooped to fill the pail she heard a sudden clatter and splashing, and looked up to see a horseman riding into the water from the opposite side of the river.
He saw her at the instant she discovered him, and once over the ford he turned his horse and rode directly toward her.
After gaining the bank he halted his pony and looked intently at her.
“You’re Langford’s daughter, I reckon,” he said.
“Yes,” she returned, seeing that he was a stranger; “I am.”
“I’m Ben Allen,” he said shortly; “the sheriff of this county. What are you doing here?”
“I am taking care of Ben Doubler,” she said; “he has been——”
“Then he ain’t dead, of course,” said Allen, interrupting her. It seemed to Sheila that there was relief and satisfaction in his voice, and she peered closer at him, but his face was hidden in the shadow of his hat brim.
“He is very much better now,” she told him, scarcely able to conceal her delight. “But he has been very bad.”
“Able to talk?”