"Wh-o is it?" demanded Mr. Harkness.
"Can't make out. Doesn't ride like any of this outfit," said Blinky.
"Maybe it's news of Rob," exclaimed Merritt.
The same thought flamed up in the heart of each of the returned searchers.
"It's an Indian!" cried Blinky suddenly.
"How do you know?"
"Can tell by his riding. I can see his blanket flapping out, too."
"Perhaps he has news of the boy."
"He knows something of importance; he wants to get here quick," was the cow-puncher's rejoinder. "He's spurring on that plug of his for all he's worth. Indians don't ride that hard unless they are in a hurry."
Everybody was on their feet now, and by common consent a movement toward the door began.