“Orderly,” champed the colonel, “to the stable, at once. See that Miss Dauntless, on no account, is allowed to saddle and ride off with her mount, Silver Heels—the white cayuse—everybody here knows the animal.”
“Sorry, sir,” announced the orderly, with a troubled look, “but the white cayuse was put under saddle at the same time Patterson’s mount was made ready.”
“What?”
“She asked me to have it done, calling out from an up-stairs window a moment after you and Captain Lund separated.”
“And you did it! What was done with the horse?”
“The sergeant brought Silver Heels along when he rode up to the porch, sir.”
The colonel rushed to the porch. Silver Heels was nowhere in sight, and neither was Dell. Patterson was just riding through the stockade gate.
“She’s gone, for sure!” growled the colonel. “Orderly, tell Lund and Hepburn to mount quickly and ride south, to overtake Miss Dauntless, if they can, and bring her back. Tell them to keep the trail for two hours, if need be.”
That night the colonel had little appetite for his supper. There was much to do, however, and he busied himself about it until eleven o’clock. By that time, Lund and Hepburn had returned.