"Yeh, he was in somethin' of a hurry and didn't want to go around by the trail, so he left his outfit here and struck straight through the hills."
"Why was he in a hurry?"
The man placed the dishes in a pan and poured water over them. "I've got my good guess," he answered, thoughtfully.
"Which may mean anything, and tells me nothing."
Holland nodded, as he carefully wiped his tin plate. "Yeh, that's about the size of it."
His attitude angered the girl. "And I have heard he was not the only one in the hills that was in a hurry that day, and I suppose I can have my 'good guess' at that, and I can have my 'good guess' as to who cut daddy's pack sack, too."
"Yeh, an' you can change your guess as often as you want to."
"And every time I change it, I'd get farther from the truth."
"You might, an' you might get nearer." The cowpuncher was looking at her squarely, now. "You ain't left-handed, are you?" he asked, abruptly.
"No, of course not! Why?"