“To tell her about you and ask her advice.”
Io’s face darkened rebelliously. “Do you think it necessary to tattle to a woman who is a total stranger to me?”
“I think it would be wise to get her view,” he replied, unmoved.
“Well, I think it would be horrid. I think if you do any such thing, you are—Mr. Banneker! You’re not listening to me.”
“Some one is coming through the woods trail,” said he.
“Perhaps it’s your local friend.”
“That’s my guess.”
“Please understand this, Mr. Banneker,” she said with an obstinate outthrust of her little chin. “I don’t know who your friend is and I don’t care. If you make it necessary, I can go to the hotel in town; but while I stay here I won’t have my affairs or even my presence discussed with any one else.”
“You’re too late,” said Banneker.
Out from a hardly discernible opening in the brush shouldered a big roan. Tossing up his head, he stretched out in the long, easy lope of the desert-bred, his rider sitting him loosely and with slack bridle.