CHAPTER XVIII
"IF HE KNOWS--DOES SHE?"
There seemed no particular need for haste. And yet Terry ran eagerly to her car, and Steve hurried after her with long strides while the men down at the bunkhouse surmised and looked to Bill Royce for a measure of explanation. Steve was not beyond the age of enthusiasm; Terry was all atingle. Life was shaping itself to an adventure.
And so, though it appeared that all of the time in the world was theirs for loitering—for it should be a simple matter to come to Red Creek well in advance of Blenham and his dupe—Terry yielded to her excitement, Steve yielded out of hand to the lure of Terry, and, quite gay about it, they sped away through the moonlight. While Terry, driver, perforce kept her eyes busied with the road, Steve Packard leaned back in his seat and contented himself with the vision of his fellow adventurer.
"Terry Temple," he told her emphatically and utterly sincerely, "you are absolutely the prettiest thing I ever saw."
"I'm not a thing," said Terry. "And besides, I know it already. And——"
Then it was that they got their first puncture; a worn tire cut through by a sharp fragment of rock so that they heard the air gush out windily. Terry jammed on her brakes. Steve jumped out and made hasty examination.
"Looks like a man had gone after it with a hand-ax," he announced cheerfully. "Good thing you've got a spare."
Terry flung down from her seat impatiently.