"This visit?" she reminded him, when she had performed a first-aid effect that would have been a credit to an army nurse.
"I haven't lost any animals yet from this popular out-door sport of rustling in Fire Weed," he returned readily. "But then I haven't many and I haven't been here long. I am tired, though, of the suspicion that hangs over me and my silver horse. I owe at least one of the gang a toasting for that day he marooned me on that ledge and forced me to chin myself out of difficulty on the wriggliest length of hemlock I ever hope to tie to. Moreover, we see nothing of that scarlet patrol that we asked of the Commissioner of the Royal Mounted. Something must be done, and without any fuss, I'm going to attempt to do it."
Sergeant Jack was sorry as soon as he had spoken that he had mentioned the Mounties. That was his one slip into direct prevarication, and it did not come easy from him to lie to Flame of Fire Weed. He tried to excuse himself to himself by the fact that he had used the uniform color scheme in his statement, but realized the evasive poverty of such an excuse. As long as he confessed so much of his plans, why didn't he go the whole way and tell her that Mahaffy and he were the scarlet patrol—very much without the scarlet? He had trusted her with much, trusting without exacting even a nod of promise that she would not reveal his plan; then why not tell her everything? But something tied his tongue on the big secret. He was not sure just what this was, but argued mentally that there would be time enough for disclosures when he had accomplished something on this special detail.
Flame had listened to his revelation with widening lids. These now narrowed as she weighed the proposition.
"Then you're going——"
"To Crow's Nest first, possibly farther into Montana—wherever the trail leads."
"Don't go to Crow's Nest," she begged. "They'll kill you!"
"They're more likely to enfold me like a brother." He raised a hand in mock salute to the forehead bandage.
"It's the hell-hole of the West," Flame continued to voice objection. "I wouldn't send my worst enemy into it. What are a few stolen horses and lifted hides to——"
He was pleased beyond measure at her interest, the thought of which would ride with him no matter what the danger. But he realized that the morning was slipping away. An after-dark entry into the Nest for a stranger was a foolhardy undertaking. Pleasant as it was to tarry here on the safe side of "Medicine Line," studying emotions as portrayed on what was becoming to him the fairest face he had ever seen, regardless of freckles and flare of hair, Childress realized that he must ride on.