He became more direct. “May I ask who you are and how you happen to be here, ma’am?”
“You may. I’m Mrs. Adams. I came up here with my husband, Professor Adams.”
“Where is he?”
“He has gone up the trail toward Frémont. He is a botanist.”
“Is that his horse’s tracks?”
Alice called sharply, “Peggy!”
Mrs. Adams turned abruptly and went in.
The stranger turned a slow gaze upon his companion.
“Well, this beats me. ’Pears like we’re on the wrong trail, Bob. I reckon we’ve just naturally overhauled a bunch of tourists.”
“Better go in and see what’s inside,” suggested the other man, slipping from his horse.