"Why were you alone? Where were the boys that I saw with you this morning? It isn't right that you should be out alone after night like this."
"They went on—ahead of me. I rode slowly," she replied hesitatingly. He did not notice her nervous manner of speech.
"They ought to have stayed with you," he declared. "You should never ride alone, particularly after dark. Don't do it again."
"But the shooting," she interrupted. "I came to tell you about it. Someone may have been hurt."
"It was kind of you to come. There may be trouble of some sort. I heard shooting, too, but thought it must be down at Harris'. There is very often a commotion down there, and sometimes the air carries sound very clearly. You are sure it was at the corrals?"
She became impatient. "Positively! I not only heard the shots plainly, but saw men ride away. Please lose no more time, but get your men and a lantern, and come on. There's evidently been trouble down there, Mr. Livingston, and your herder may have been hurt. They are not all good people in these mountains, by any means."
"Is that so? I had not discovered it. Probably some of them thought they would like mutton for their Sunday dinner. It seemed to me there was considerable firing, though. You are perfectly sure it was at the corrals?"
"That was my impression, Mr. Livingston," she replied briefly.
His face suddenly became anxious. "They may have hurt Fritz. If anything has happened to that boy there will be something to pay! But unless something occurred to delay the sheep they should have been put in before dark. I will go at once. Will you come in the house and stay until my return? It might not be safe for a lady down there."
"No!" Then, less fiercely: "Have your men bring their guns and hurry up! I'm going along with you;" adding: "It's on my way back."