“I wasn’t anywhere else! What a question, cousin Cash! Where would you expect me to have been? Clinging to her tail? Ha! ha! ha!”
“Did you leap it?” inquired the laugher, suddenly changing tone. “Did you follow us any farther?”
“No, Loo. From the crevasse I came direct here, thinking you had got back before me. That’s how I’ve chanced to come up with you.”
The answer appeared to give satisfaction.
“Ah! I’m glad you’ve overtaken us. We’ve been riding slowly. Luna is so tired. Poor thing! I don’t know how I shall ever get her back to the Leona.”
Since the moment of being joined by Calhoun, the mustanger had not spoken a word. However pleasant may have been his previous intercourse with the young Creole, he had relinquished it, without any apparent reluctance; and was now riding silently in the advance, as if by tacit understanding he had returned to the performance of the part for which he had been originally engaged.
For all that, the eye of the ex-captain was bent blightingly upon him—at times in a demoniac glare—when he saw—or fancied—that another eye was turned admiringly in the same direction.
A long journey performed by that trio of travellers might have led to a tragical termination. Such finale was prevented by the appearance of the picknickers; who soon after surrounding the returned runaway, put to flight every other thought by the chorus of their congratulations.