Mira came to him and touched his shoulder.
"I saw, Pete," she whispered huskily. "I, too, had him covered. . . .
We'll have to move again."
He looked up into the loving face, his heart thumping so fiercely that his ears drummed. Suddenly he realised how much it meant to him that now he was the only one that counted; she would have pulled the trigger rather than risk his capture by the Police.
"You knew he was here?" There was no reproach in her voice.
"I didn't want to skeer yuh," he replied weakly.
She smiled: she could read him so well.
"We must cross the river and find a place over there," she decided.
"The construction raft at the trestle will get the horses over. . . .
If the Sergeant caught only a glimpse of Whiskers he'd know."
Blue Pete laughed. "When I git through with the ole gal her own mother wudn't know her. I ain't bin in the rustlin' game all these years not to pick up a few tricks to make a woman pinto look like a blood stallion."
"But if he ever saw us—either of us."
The halfbreed spent the evening pondering on that.