"Been 'avin' a quarrel with un?" he teased.
"No. Just a little misunderstanding," she whispered back.
This bit of confidence turned the whole affair into a thing of joy for the kind-hearted old Englishman.
While this tête-à-tête was taking place the men were riding down the vandals by the aid of lighted lanterns. The trail was dim to begin with, however, and grew dimmer as they swerved to the west out upon the high prairie. Here it vanished altogether and the party returned. The blackness of the night and the heavily drifting snow enabled Snoopy Bill and his men to make a clean get-away.
Following Sykes' plan providing for misadventure they turned into the west instead of the east and recrossed the Valley about the west end of the lake, eventually arriving in the Square Room thoroughly wearied and disgruntled and two hours behind schedule time.
Sykes' face was a picture of blank dismay; McClure's of rage.
"Where is the squealer?" cried Bob McClure as he stalked among the men.
Blasphemous and resentful protestations quite evidently sincere came from all parts of the room.
"No, Rob!" said Snoopy Bill deliberately. "You are a liar if you say it. There isn't a squealer in the gang. Not a man laid down. Any squealing that may have taken place was let out by the gents who stayed behind."
Reddy Sykes read the savage light in Baird's eyes.