“All wrong! According to Finsen, he wouldn’t pit in the dark. However, it doesn’t matter on a cowboy. You’ve a great story yourself. There’s a fine situation here which I’ll play up if you don’t object.”
Cavanagh smiled. “Would my objection have any weight?”
The reporter laughed. “Not much; I’ve got to carry back some sort of game. Well, so long! I must hit the trail over the hill.”
Cavanagh made civil answer, and returned to his patient more than half convinced that Hartley was right. The “power of the press” might prove to be a very real force in this pursuit.
As the journalist was about to mount his horse he discovered Lee Virginia on the other side of the creek. “Hello!” said he, “I wonder what this pretty maiden means?” And, dropping his bridle-rein again, he walked down to the bridge.
Swenson interposed his tall figure. “What do you want?” he asked, bluntly. “You don’t want to get too close. You’ve been talking to the ranger.”
Hartley studied him coolly. “Are you a ranger, too?”
“No, only a guard.”
“Why are you leaving Cavanagh to play it alone in there?”
Lee explained. “He won’t let any of us come near him.”