“Gone for his mail. He’ll return soon. What are you doing over here, may I ask?”
“I’m here as guide to Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore, this is Norcross, one of McFarlane’s men. Mr. Moore is connected with the tie-camp operations of the railway.”
Moore was a tall, thin man with a gray beard and keen blue eyes. “Where’s McFarlane? We were to meet him here. Didn’t he come over with you?”
“We started together, but the horses got away, and he was obliged to go back after them. He also is likely to turn up soon.”
“I am frightfully hungry,” interrupted the girl. “Can’t you hand me out a hunk of bread and meat? We’ve been riding since daylight.”
Berrie suddenly appeared at the door. “Sure thing,” she called out. “Slide down and come in.”
Moore removed his hat and bowed. “Good morning, Miss McFarlane, I didn’t know you were here. You know my daughter Siona?”
Berrie nodded coldly. “I’ve met her.”
He indicated the other woman. “And Mrs. Belden, of course, you know.”
Mrs. Belden, the fourth member of the party, a middle-aged, rather flabby person, just being eased down from her horse, turned on Berrie with a battery of questions. “Good Lord! Berrie McFarlane, what are you doing over in this forsaken hole? Where’s your dad? And where is Tony? If Cliff had known you was over here he’d have come, too.”