“Not by three miles.” Bill was watching him intently. He saw the pale eyes turn away and glance half fearfully along the trail. Then they suddenly came back, and Scipio gazed at the child beside him. He sighed and lifted his reins.
“Guess I’ll get on then,” he said in the dogged tone of a man who has made up his mind to an unpleasant task.
But Bill had no intention of letting him go yet. He sat back in his seat, his hand holding his reins loosely in his lap.
“That wher’ your prospect is?” he inquired casually.
Scipio nodded. He could not bring himself to frame any further aggravation of the lie.
“Wher’ did you hear of the prospect?” Bill demanded shrewdly.
“I––”
But little Vada broke in. Her interest had been diverted by the word prospect.
“Wot’s ’prospect’?” she demanded.
Bill laughed without any change of expression.