"Travois," said Rose. "I show you."
Buck again regained consciousness and his voice was distinctly stronger. "Get after him, Whit. He must n't get away."
"Oh, nonsense, Buck. They know the cat's out of the bag by this time and they will never be such asses as to try it on now. As for Dave, he can't get away. The agency will be jolly glad to do something for the money they have had by turning over Dave if I ask it of them. And McAllister will think you are worth a good bit more than the money, I lay. I know I do."
Buck was attempting feeble remonstrance when Rose returned from her survey of the timber available and swiftly placed her hands over his lips. "Do not talk," she commanded. "It is bad to talk, now."
"What price the nurse—eh, Buck? Oh, you lucky beggar!"
"Rose," murmured Buck. "Why, that's right kind."
Admonishing him with raised forefinger, Rose gave instructions to Whitby and he hastened away to gather material for the travois.
* * * * *
When Margaret returned to Mrs. Blake she was carrying a pair of driving gloves and a jaunty sailor hat which Mrs. Blake knew had been packed in one of the trunks. "Are we going to start, Margie?" she asked, with languid interest.
"I am going to start but I am going the other way. We shall not be able to leave for the ranch before morning, probably."