“Ye’re a cool one, I’ll tell them all.”
“Thank you.” Elfreda was covertly watching every movement of her caller, every expression of face and eyes, and she could not but feel that he was unusually confident about something. Rack her brain as she might, she could not think what that something might be, unless Hawk’s party had discovered the bay mare, which she did not believe was a fact, for the party had swerved off to the right after leaving the vicinity of the forest cabin.
“If I reckerlect, lady, ye told the boss that ye hadn’t seen any strangers hereabouts—a fellow on a bay mare, an old party and a tough one.”
“I told you no one had passed here, and to the latter part of your question I am free to say that your party included the only ‘tough ones’ I have seen since coming into the forest.”
“So! I reckon I see the p’int. Lady, what about that saddle over there in the brush?”
Elfreda could feel her face going pale.
“The—the saddle!” she gasped, but instantly recovered herself. “What saddle do you mean?”
“I mean Sam Petersen’s saddle. I’d know that leather among all the rest in the Cascade range. He stole that, too. Now where’s the bay mare? He sure didn’t ride her away without the saddle.”
“Find him, if you want to know. Don’t ask me! As for the saddle that you say is over yonder in the brush, draw whatever conclusions you wish. Is that all? If so, I have work to do and will go to it,” announced J. Elfreda with great dignity.
“I reckon that’s ’bout all, ’cept that I’d like to look over that shack.”