“Yes. More than half a day’s ride from here is a village, a forest mountain village, with women and children, who, perhaps, will never know their peril until too late. It is known as Silver Creek, named from the stream that flows through it, a stream that for about half of the year is a swollen torrent—water icy cold, coming from the mountain peaks in the north. In any event, they will need help, and it is my duty to get there as quickly as possible. Lieutenant, will you take it upon yourself to lead your party to safety, and let me go on?”
“That—that is for the girls to answer,” replied Hippy gravely, turning to Grace and her companions.
“Help will be needed at Silver Creek, you think, Mr. White?” questioned Grace.
“Yes. All they can get.”
“Girls, I think we, too, know where our duty lies, do we not?” she asked evenly.
“Yes!” was the quick reply from Elfreda and Nora and Emma.
“We are going with you, Mr. White,” announced Grace.
“Oh, help!” wailed Stacy.
A moment later the Overland party was riding at top speed, following closely on the heels of the guided pony, knowing that upon their speed in reaching their destination many lives might depend.