“Ah, yes, at home,” said the doctor gloomily.
“But there is no danger,” she persisted. “I am not afraid. Besides, you cannot keep me.” She stood up among the bushes looking down at him with a face so fiercely resolved that he was constrained to say, “By Jove! I don't believe I could. But I can go with you.”
“You would not do that,” she cried, stamping her foot, “if I forbade you. It is your duty to stay here and watch that Indian. It is mine to go and get the Police. Good-by.”
He rose to follow her.
“No,” she said, “I forbid you to come. You are not doing right. You are to stay. We will save my brother.”
She glided through the bushes from his sight and was gone.
“Am I a fool or what?” said the doctor to himself. “She is taking a chance, but after all it is worth while.”
It was now the middle of the afternoon and it would take Moira an hour and a half over that rocky winding trail to make the ten miles that lay before her. Ten minutes more would see the Police started on their return. The doctor settled himself down to his three hours' wait, keeping his eye fixed upon the Indian. The latter was now busy with his meal, which he ate ravenously.
“The beggar has me tied up tight,” muttered the doctor ruefully. “My grub is on my saddle, and I guess I dare not smoke till he lights up himself.”
A hand touched his arm. Instantly he was on his feet. It was Moira.