“No use of two watching the moon,” he returned, lightly.
“But you shouldn’t have let me sleep,” she reprimanded. “Besides, you had to stay awake. You have had no sleep at all!”
There was a sympathy in her voice very pleasant to the ear. But Grant could not continue so delightful an indulgence.
“I had to wake you,” he explained. “There are several people riding up the valley; undoubtedly a search party. I must attract their attention.”
They listened, and could now hear the hoof-beats close at hand. Grant called; not a loud shout; it seemed little more than his speaking voice, but instantly there was silence, save for the echo of the sound rolling down the valley. Then a voice answered, and Grant gave a word or two of directions. In a minute or two several horsemen loomed up through the vague light.
“Here we are,” said Zen, as she distinguished her father. “Gone lame on the off foot and held up for repairs.”
Y.D. swung down from his saddle. “Are you all right, Zen?” he cried, as he advanced with outstretched arms. There was an eagerness and a relief in his voice which would have surprised many who knew Y.D. only as a shrewd cattleman.
Zen accepted and returned his embrace, with a word of assurance that she was really nothing the worse. Then she introduced her companion.
“This is Mr. Dennison Grant, foreman of the Landson ranch, Dad.”
Grant extended his hand, but Y.D. hesitated. The truce occasioned by the fire did not by any means imply permanent peace. Far from it, with the valley in ruins—