"I'll speak to her without altering my tone of voice. Now watch. Here, Vicky, little girl, you may go with us."
Out of the reeds, bounding in an ecstasy of delight, came Vic. She sprang about me, then about the boys, the soldiers, and animals, and then approached the fire and looked for her share of the supper. It was settled in her dog mind that she was going with us.
We resumed our journey the next morning with the first crack of dawn, and rode to Skull Valley. The first section of the road ran through a rough, mountainous, and wooded country. At the end of twenty miles it entered a level valley, which gradually broadened into a wide plain which had been occupied by settlers for farms and cattle ranges. I was well acquainted with the people, and called at the log house of a Mr. Sage to make inquiries about the horse-thieves, and to purchase some eggs for our next camp.
As the ambulance rattled up to the door two young women appeared, whom I recognized as Mrs. Sage and Mrs. Bell. To my inquiry for her husband Mrs. Sage replied that he and Mr. Bell had left for La Paz eight days before, and were expected home that day.
"Sorry he is not here," I said; "I wanted to inquire about two horse-thieves who probably passed through the valley two weeks ago."
"A Mexican and a white man?" asked Mrs. Sage, making a distinction in complexion rather than in race.
"Yes; the first rode a cream-colored pony, and the last a black—the property of these boys."
"They were here to breakfast; arrived before we were up. The Greaser wanted to swap his saddle for a Mexican saddle, but husband wouldn't swap, so he bought it."
"Did he leave the one he brought, Mrs. Sage?" asked Henry.
"Yes; it's hanging on a peg beside the door in the linter."