“Go!” Fred commanded, “go! before I kill you!”
Nixon needed no second warning. He plunged like a whipped dog into the brush and skulked away to safety. Alta sank to the ground exhausted.
“Come, Alta, get on Eagle, quick; we must leave this place.”
He hurried to bring the horse and helped her into the saddle. She could hardly hold herself there.
“Now, Alta,” he said, “be brave; I’ll take care of you.” He vaulted into his own saddle as he spoke and rode close by her side, supporting her with one arm as they went slowly along the trail.
“Fred,” she said, as they neared the Morgan ranch, “you needn’t go any farther. I’m all right.”
“But I mean to see you safely home.”
“Please don’t,” she pleaded; “go back to your herd. Uncle must not know a word of this. It will drive him wild with worry and anger.”
“Surely you don’t want that devil to escape. I’ll rouse the valley to capture and punish him.”
“Let him go, Fred; God will punish him.”