CHAPTER V
INTO THE DEPTHS
At the top of the bank made by the dike the girl pointed with her quirt down to the rock-rimmed pool edge where a pair of riders were just swinging out of their saddles.
“Hello, Daddy! We’re coming, Kid,” she called, and she turned to explain to Ashton. “They came around the other end of the hills; a longer way but better going. How’s this? Thought you said you were camped here.”
“Yes, of course. Don’t you see the tent? It’s right there among the––Why, what––where is it?” cried Ashton, gaping in blank amazement.
“We’ll soon see,” replied the girl.
Their horses were scrambling down the short steep slope to the pool, where the other horses were drinking their fill of the cool water. The two men watched Ashton’s approach, Knowles with an impassive gaze, Gowan with cold suspicion in his narrowed eyes.
“Well, honey,” asked the cowman, “did you have him pulling leather?”
“No, and I didn’t lose him, either,” she replied, 40 with a mischievous glance at Gowan. “I took that jump-off where the white-cheeked steer broke its neck. He took it after me without pulling leather.”
“Huh!” grunted the puncher. “Mr. Tenderfoot shore is some rider. We’re waiting for him now to ride around and find that camp where we were to deliver his veal.”