To be defied, drawn on, mocked, and teased with low, derisive laughter is not a situation that any man loves. But if thoroughly angry, mad clear to the bone, Gordon’s face revealed only dogged hope. For Chance was riding with him. If Lee’s beast slipped or tired. If she were a second late with the spur. One of the three was fairly certain, and the belief set a gleam in his eyes that caused her a quiver of apprehension.
“Oh, he’s mad enough to beat me!” she told it to herself. “I wonder if he would.”
Nevertheless, every time she looked back at that dogged face she felt a sense of security. With raiders at large, it was just as well to have him around! The thought was in her mind when, with him only a few feet behind, she shot over the edge of the last steep out upon the plateau.
“Oh, my goodness!” It burst from her in sudden fright.
The Three, of course, were out of sight. The natural droop of the copal’s outer branches hid the halters, and she saw only the four raiders, unevenly grouped, and three rifle-barrels aimed from behind the tree. As she reined her beast back on its haunches Gordon swung his animal sideways between her and the raiders, and, quite shamelessly, she accepted the protection.
“Beat it quick!”
Already he had pulled his gun, and but for the fact that Bull just then stepped out in the open the question of hanging or shooting would have been decided for at least one of the thieves. As it was, his readiness served one purpose—reduced the heat in Bull’s eyes.
“Put up your gun, Son, the job’s done.” Pointing at Lee, he sternly inquired, “But what’s she doing here?”
Now fright, plus Gordon’s chivalrous behavior, had driven the last vestige of anger out of Lee. She spoke before he could answer. “Don’t blame him. He did his best to take me in.”
“Then who shall I blame?”