"Listen," she whispered, holding up a warning hand, "I hear horsebackers."
"Sure enough," he replied after a moment's silence. "I reckon it's them breed boys o' yourn. Hungriest outfit I ever seen!"
"Yes," she said, rising suddenly to her feet and peering into the gathering dusk, "that's who it is. Go get the blankets, Jim."
"Where're you goin'!" asked McCullen, as she moved quickly away down the bank of the creek toward the dark brush of the bottom.
"To tell them school's out," she replied with a short laugh, then disappeared from his sight.
"I reckon she's afraid them boys'll annoy that Van Rensselaer woman. You'd think she'd never seen an Injun before, from the fuss she made back there at Harris'," soliloquized McCullen as he brought a great armful of blankets and deposited them inside the new tent.
But Hope was not thinking of Mrs. Van Rensselaer as she stood in the narrow brush trail holding the bridle of an impatient Indian pinto, while the soft-voiced twin looked at her through the semi-darkness.
"There's a bright moon to-night till three in the mornin', then it's as dark as pitch," he was saying.
"Who figured out all that?" demanded the girl.
The breed boy moved uneasily in his saddle. "I reckon Shorty Smith er some o' 'em did," he replied.