It was Budd Hankinson who came forward on foot, his figure appearing of gigantic proportions in the gloom. He was more alarmed than she, as he had warrant for being, knowing, as he did, that some extraordinary cause must have brought the girl to this place alone at that hour of the night.
She quickly told her story, explaining that Fred was held a prisoner by the rustlers, else he would have hastened back to secure the assistance for which she was looking.
"You're a brave girl," said the honest fellow, as he laid his hand on the reins of the pony; "there are mighty few that would have done what you've done to-night."
"Never mind about that, Budd, but tell me what to do."
"Why, you mustn't do anything; I'll do the rest."
"No, you may help me, but what is it to be?"
"Luck's running your way, Jennie; the stockmen have moved their camp since Fred left this morning."
"Mercy! I thought I had only two or three miles farther to go."
"Their camp isn't more'n half a mile off, right over the swell yonder; we'll be there in a jiffy."
"And you will go with me?"