"Which way did they go?" he demanded.
"Okanagan trail," said Ike, with a slow grin. "So long."
"Good-bye, Ike. You'll see me when I come back."
And The Kid waved his hand, and gave the Swallow her head.
Ike looked after him, and allowed himself the very, unusual indulgence of a hearty laugh.
"Well," he said, "I tried to help Crawley a little, but somehow it didn't seem to go right."
A tail chase is a long chase, and so The Kid found it, for the speed and endurance of the Swallow were both fully tested before the advance party were overtaken.
As he came in sight of them he pulled himself up with the question, "What am I doing here? What is my business with that party?" For a mile or so he rode slowly, keeping out of their sight, trying to find such answer to this question as would satisfy not so much himself but those before him, to whom, somehow, he felt an answer was due. The difficulty of explaining his presence became sensibly greater as he pictured himself attempting to make it clear to Crawley.
"It is none of his business, anyway," at length he said impatiently. "She doesn't want him around. How did he know?"
Crawley was a man of some parts. He had money and ability. He was a scholar, and could talk well about rocks and plants. The Kid had heard him discourse to the Old Prospector and Marion many a day on these subjects, and intelligently, too.