The Texan regarded her with twinkling eyes: "First thing we know, we'll be startin' a brand new sheep an' cattle war, an' most likely we'd both get exterminated."
Janet laughed, and as the horses plodded across the sodden range with the man slightly in advance, she watched him out of the corner of her eye. "He's got a sense of humour," she thought, "and, he's, somehow, different from most cowboys—and, he's the best looking thing." Then her eyes strayed to the bandage about his head and her brows drew into a puzzled frown.
They had dipped down into a wide coulee, and the Texan jerked his horse to a stand, swung to the ground, and leaned over to examine some tracks in the mud.
"Are they fresh?" asked the girl. "Is it your horse?"
A moment of silence followed, while the man studied the tracks. Then he looked up: "Yes," he answered, "it's his tracks, all right. An' there's another horse with him. They're headin' for the bad lands." He swung into the saddle and started down the coulee at a gallop, with the bay mare pounding along in his wake.
The little plateau where he had left Alice Endicott was deserted! Throwing himself from the saddle, the Texan carefully examined the ground. Here also, were the tracks of the two horses he had seen farther up the coulee, and mingled with the horse tracks were the tracks of high-heeled boots. The man faced the girl who still sat her bay mare, and pointed to the tracks on the ground. "Someone's be'n here," he said, in a low, tense voice.
"Maybe your partner woke up and caught his horse, or maybe those are your own tracks——"
The man made a swift gesture of dissent: "Well, then," uttered the girl in a tone of conviction, "that horrible Purdy has been along here——"
"Purdy!" The word exploded from the Texan's lips like the report of a gun. He took a step toward her and she saw that his eyes stared wide with horror.
"Yes," she answered, with a shudder, "I loathe him. He was at the ranch this morning before you came—wanted to see father——"