"That's my notion."
"It's certain we can't camp here—the horses must have grass."
"I'll be able to ride in a day or two," Alice said, bravely.
"We could frame up a portable bed and carry you," suggested the outlaw; "but it can't be done to-night, so you'd better send your outfit down to the marsh to camp. The horses are worn out and so are the men."
"Will you guide them to grass and help them find shelter?"
The outlaw hesitated for an instant, and Alice interposed: "No, no! let Gage do that. I want Mr. Smith to remain here."
Ward perceived in her entreaty something of anxiety and fear, and after the men and horses had started down the slope he turned to the outlaw and said: "I'm mighty grateful to you, Mr. Smith. It must have surprised you to find these women here."
The outlaw dryly replied, "It did!"
Alice added: "It was in the middle of the night, too; but Mr. Smith was very nice about it. He slept outdoors without a word of complaint."
Ward had figured the situation to conclusion: "Smith is a poacher," and though he had a savage dislike of these illicit game-slaughterers, he could not but be glad of the presence of this particular outlaw, and resolved to overlook his trade in gratitude for his cabin and service.