"What?" began the Easterner, bewildered.
"I'm a-goin' to find her," said the little man, decidedly.
"You don't think there's any danger, do you?" asked the Easterner, in anxious tones. "Can't I help you?"
"You do as I tell you," replied the little man, shortly, and rode away.
He followed Miss Caldwell's trail quite rapidly, for the trail was fresh. As long as he looked intently for hoof-marks, nothing was to be seen, the prairie was apparently virgin; but by glancing the eye forty or fifty yards ahead, a faint line was discernible through the grasses.
Alfred came upon Miss Caldwell seated quietly on her horse in the very centre of a prairie-dog town, and so, of course, in the midst of an area of comparatively desert character. She was amusing herself by watching the marmots as they barked, or watched, or peeped at her, according to their distance from her. The sight of Alfred was not welcome, for he frightened the marmots.
When he saw Miss Caldwell, Alfred grew bashful again. He sidled his horse up to her and blushed.
"I'll show you th' way back, miss," he said, diffidently.
"Thank you," replied Miss Caldwell, with a slight coldness, "I can find my own way back."
"Yes, of course," hastened Alfred, in an agony. "But don't you think we ought to start back now? I'd like to go with you, miss, if you'd let me. You see the afternoon's quite late."