“Why do you think so?” ventured several who felt this was too serious a matter to run much risk about.
“If any of you had ever seen the place you wouldn’t ax me the question. The reason why I think so is this: The Chevenine Hills may be said to be the gate of the Apache country—that is from a hundred miles around these parts. From here to there is a broad level plain, and south of them for a hundred miles stretches a low level valley, making the best kind of a country for traveling for horses and men, while if you take any other route, you’ve mighty rough traveling through the mountains, and canons and rocks.”
“But have they not got too far ahead of us?”
“Don’t think they have; they’ve got only a few hours’ start, and have gone along the eastern ridge which would carry them ten miles to the north till they got pretty near the hills, when they’d have to bend to the right of course. Then they’ve got the gal and they’ll travel more careful than if they hadn’t her; for when a feller is in love with a gal he’s mighty careful how he treats her. Isn’t that so, Fred Wainwright?”
“How should I know?” responded the young hunter, his face turning the color of scarlet.
“You’re right,” Leonidas Swipes hastened to say. “I can answer that question by experience. When a young man is in love, he’s sure to treat his young lady as tender as if she’s a sick kitten.”
“You see we’ll take the western side or ridge of this plain; this will keep, the two parties so far apart that there’ll be no danger of our running together, and we’ll do some pretty sharp riding and get there ahead and be ready to nab ’em when they come up.”
“Suppose we are mistaken after all,” remarked Mr. Templeton.
“How do you mean?” enquired Lancaster.
“They may get in ahead of us.”