“Yes, we were expecting you every moment.”
He saw nothing in this to remark upon. “Did it snow at the lake?”
“Yes, a little; it mostly rained.”
“It stormed up on the divide like a January blizzard. When did Moore and his party arrive?”
“About ten o’clock this morning.”
“I’ll ride right up and see them. What about the outfit? That’s at the lake, I reckon?”
“Yes, I was just sending Tony after it. But, father, if you go up to Moore’s camp, don’t say too much about what has happened. Don’t tell them just when you took the back-trail, and just how long Wayland and I were in camp.”
“Why not?”
She reddened with confusion. “Because—You know what an old gossip Mrs. Belden is. I don’t want her to know. She’s an awful talker, and our being together up there all that time will give her a chance.”
A light broke in on the Supervisor’s brain. In the midst of his preoccupation as a forester he suddenly became the father. His eyes narrowed and his face darkened. “That’s so. The old rip could make a whole lot of capital out of your being left in camp that way. At the same time I don’t believe in dodging. The worst thing we could do would be to try to blind the trail. Was Tony here last night when you came?”