It was then that Blanche became mistress of the situation. She was determined that no chance word of hers should hurt her brother. And she had no fear of this man, for all his manner and the ugly guns he carried.
“No,” she said. “I’ve told you the simple truth. We found poor Molly badly smashed. She’s gone where the right help can be found for her. And I’ll take you to her at once, if you like. You must trust me.”
And Lightning agreed. Whatever suspicions Blanche’s refusal might have inspired they remained unexpressed. For the time he seemed suddenly to have frozen up.
Now they had ridden the miles of the gorge together, right up the headwaters of the creek, only speaking just sufficient for the needs of the journey.
At the foot of the inclined ledge, over which the ascent to the cavern mouth had yet to be made, Blanche turned to the cattleman. Beelzebub, with head haughtily raised, gazed disdainfully upon its more lowly companions.
Blanche indicated the path, which, for all its indefiniteness at the start, carried prompt conviction to the practical mind of Lightning. He observed the marks of usage at once. The lank grass was obviously hoof-trodden.
“Will the pinto trail behind on your rope?” she asked. “There isn’t room for two ponies abreast. If it won’t travel that way we’d best leave it right here. You can pick her up going back.”
Lightning shook his head. His eyes were unsmiling.
“Molly needs her,” he said shortly.
“Well, it’s up to you,” Blanche said with a shrug. “Look up there at the mouth of that tunnel, where the water’s pouring down the rocks. This path rises on a ledge, and makes its way to that cave. We’re going to pass right inside it. It’s a tunnel; and the walls of rock meet overhead for several hundred yards. After that they open out, and we pass into the higher hill country. Do you feel good about it?”