“Logie always had staunch friends,” she said, her glance meeting Nita’s.
Nita made no answer, but glanced behind her; and presently her slight body quivered with eagerness.
“Did I lie, little wanton? A man comes up the Garsykes road. He’s a small figure yet—but, see, he grows bigger—and now he nears the two-ways that I told you of.”
Causleen was meshed again by webs. She could do no more than follow the pointing finger, and watch the man till she knew his limber stride, his way of carrying broad shoulders.
“He has come to the two-roads now,” said Nita softly—“and now he takes the higher track. Did I lie?”
Hardcastle, in the clear light, seemed so near that Causleen cried aloud to him, entreating his return. The wind drove her voice back.
“I sent him there—in search of you,” said Nita. “He thinks we have you in our caves.”
For one still moment Causleen paused. She knew the agony speeding Hardcastle to the black mouth that grinned across the pasture-lands. She knew what leaped from her in answer.
“You sent him there?” she echoed.
“Yes—food for our Garsykes wolves.”