“You’re after him? Who are you?”
“Me?” he cackled again. “Call me Sile Deland, and you’ll hit it. I’m after him only because I think he ought to be punished, and I like the excitement of a man hunt. Shall we strike hands together as pards, and make this hunt in pair?”
The young man hesitated. “I think I’ll go alone,” he said finally. “Thanks for your kind offer; and because I don’t accept, don’t think I don’t appreciate it. But—I don’t know you; and I’ve found out that when out here you don’t know a man it’s safe to let him alone.”
“You’re cautious, and caution usually wins, young man. I don’t blame ye. So long!”
When young Denton went on again, Deland held in his horse until the young man had passed on. Then he gave his horse its head and permitted it to follow in the same general direction, drawing rein now and then to listen to the clattering feet of Denton’s pony.
Suddenly there was confusion in those clattering hoofs.
“Ah! I expected it.”
Silas Deland rode forward finally, and soon he came on a sight that startled him. Young Denton, overcome by weakness and loss of blood, had tumbled blindly from his saddle. One foot clung to the stirrup, and his horse was dragging him.
Silas Deland yelled to the horse, rode up to it, leaped to the ground, and stopped it; and then, disengaging the young man’s foot, he laid the unconscious youth down on the grass, and began to work to restore him to consciousness.
“It’s what I looked for, young man! Your courage is bigger than any other part of you—bigger even than your common sense, or you’d never tried this thing in the condition you’re in. It’s a good thing for you that I tried to keep close to you. You, and that young lady, too, seem to be needin’ help about this time.”