“We might as well move on,” advised Grace. “To-morrow will be Sunday, and we ought to find a good camping place for that day, and have a day of rest.”
“Does Miss Briggs feel able to ride?” asked Ham White.
“Yes. Her head naturally is still quite sore, but otherwise she is as fit as any of us. It takes a lot to put J. Elfreda Briggs out of commission,” added Grace laughingly.
“That it does,” agreed Elfreda herself, emerging from her tent with a head bandage like a turban.
The party were just gathering for breakfast on the morning after the attack on Elfreda. She was a little pale, but wholly herself. The Overlanders all shook hands with her as she came out, Ham White among the number, and, for the instant of the hand-clasp, their eyes met, each seeking in the fleeting look to read the secret of the other’s reserve.
“I have been out since break of day, following the trail of our prowler,” announced White. “There was more than one man involved in the game, whatever it was. They had horses, three horses, and there must have been that many men involved, though only one man entered the camp. The probabilities are that they reasoned one man would stand a better chance to carry out their plan without detection than would a bunch of them, and they undoubtedly were right. One of our shots, as I said last night, hit the fellow, for I found a trail of blood drops. Their trail shows that he had to be assisted to his saddle, and that a companion rode along at his side when they went away.”
“Oh, Hamilton. Did you demonstrate all of that?” begged Emma, her eyes filled with admiration.
“I read the trail, that’s all,” replied the guide. “If that is demonstrating, I demonstrated.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Stacy.
“Stacy Brown, you are a young ruffian!” cried Emma indignantly.