“I reckon so. The kid fell down and hurt herself a little. She’s up the canyon a piece. I’ll show you.”
“Oh, thank you.”
The woman turned and strode away, Grace following, her anxiety for Emma banishing all thoughts from mind of the strangeness of this woman’s presence in the dark canyon.
With the rifle still tucked under her arm, Grace stumbled along over the rough ground, managing to keep up with her guide, at the expense of several falls. Grace knew that she was proceeding in the direction which she believed Emma had followed, and she was, therefore, eager to get ahead as rapidly as possible.
“Is Miss Dean badly hurt?” she questioned anxiously, stepping up beside her companion.
“Hurt her ankle, thet’s all,” was the brief reply.
“Oh, that is too bad. How much further have we to go?”
“Reckon we’re there now. Miss Dean!”
“Emma! Are you there?” cried Grace.
“Grace! Oh, Grace! Save me!” wailed Emma Dean.