“Is she–has she got a little ‘touched’ down there in your City of Angels and Scamps, eh?”
“Samson, am I still the captain, or am I not?”
“Captain, I salute. Ride on! You, Aleck, hitch up a board and take that trunk of Miss Trent’s to her country seat, and be quick about it. Hurray! I’m so happy I’m looney! Here’s for El Desierto and no questions asked. Hurray!”
CHAPTER XXI
BACK AT SOBRANTE
For an hour and a half they rode swiftly along a comparatively level trail, though to Ninian Sharp’s untrained eyes there was no road visible. How Samson managed to pick his way so undeviatingly over the dried herbage and sandy soil was a mystery; but neither the guide nor Jessica found anything strange in this. Those who live in wide solitudes grow keen of sight and hearing, and there were tiny roughnesses here and there which clearly marked to these experienced ranch people where other feet had passed that way.
Presently the roughness increased, and the trail climbed steadily toward a mesa, which seemed to the reporter but ten rods distant, yet was, in reality, as many miles.
“We turn here, captain. Shall I ride ahead?”
“Yes, Samson, but slowly. Scruff’s been so idle all these weeks and grown so lazy he’ll hardly move.”
“He’ll get over that as soon as he meets up with the tackers. My, but they’ve led Aunt Sally a life! And taken more medicine than was due ’em during the natural course of their lives. Say, Sharp, do you enjoy picra?”