But he reached down, and clasped Pete’s hand.
“You will be cold, maybe,” said the Indian simply.
“All right, men!” said Haig. “You’ll take good care of Craven, of course. And you’ll use your best judgment about everything, Farrish. I’m not coming back without Sunnysides.”
He put spurs to the little bay mare, and dashed away. Pete and Farrish stood watching him until he had turned the point of the ridge.
“Hell!” said Farrish.
In the cottage door stood a figure in blue silks, intently gazing after the disappearing horseman.
“He catchum, allee light!” murmured Slim Jim.