CHAPTER FOUR
In another hour King was ready to take the trail again. Beside him stood Cherry, her own black horse waiting only a few yards away.
A dark cloud had risen in the north-east, and King glanced quickly about him at the skies and at the trees rustling noisily in the little breeze that had sprung up.
"It's like rain," he warned her quietly. "Perhaps you'd better not go this time."
The faintest suspicion of a frown passed quickly over her face, but that was all the reply his warning drew from her. Before he could help her she had stepped upon a low-cut stump and had sprung lightly into the saddle.
Keith McBain watched them from his seat near the doorway.
"I'll be looking for you early, my girl," he said.
"I'll be back before it begins to rain," she replied, and turning her horse about started towards the trail.
King got up at once, pausing a moment to bid the old man good-bye before he followed Cherry.
"Look after yourself," the old fellow replied, "and come in next trip. It'll be dull for you now—and we'd be glad to see you."