This done, he adjusted the girths of his own horse, and getting into the saddle went off at a gallop. There was still almost an hour of daylight left in which to find Keith McBain, bring him back, and recross the White Pine. The knowledge that he might have to go most of the way to town before he should find the old man, and the fact that Keith McBain was in all probability lying in a helpless condition with body battered and bones broken, made King urge his horse forward as fast as the slippery trail would allow.
Fortunately, however, he had not far to go. Mounting a little hill that he remembered quite well from having stood there in the evening to get a glimpse of the valley below with its little stream of water and its wild meadows, King thought he heard the sound of voices. When he got to the top of the hill and looked down, he was surprised to see the figure of a girl standing in the middle of the trail and waving to him. It was Anne.
In a moment he was beside her and was following her on foot to where Keith McBain was lying upon the ground.
"Is he hurt?" King asked at once as he looked at the old man.
"Not much—nothing serious, I think," Anne replied.
Keith McBain turned his head and looked at King at the sound of a new voice. He seemed on the point of speaking but simply shook his head a little, and then with a great deal of effort propped himself up on one elbow and regarded King very thoughtfully.
"It's me—King Howden—Mr. McBain," King said.
"I know—that's all right," was the reply. "Get me out of here—I've got to get back—I've got to get to the camp—and I've got to get back to my girl."
He dropped his eyes as if he were looking himself over. Then he looked at King again.
"Is she all right?" he asked.