“You’re a game one,” he told her, as he helped her to the saddle.
She did not answer, but looked straightforward between her horse’s ears, without seeing him, waiting for him to give the word to start.
CHAPTER VI
IN DEAD MAN’S CACHE
Not since the start of their journey had Melissy broken silence, save to answer, in few words as possible, the questions put to her by the outlaw. Yet her silence had not been sullenness. It had been the barrier which she had set up between them—one which he could not break down short of actual roughness.
Of this she could not accuse him. Indeed, he had been thoughtful of her comfort. At sunset they had stopped by a spring, and he had shared with her such food as he had. Moreover, he had insisted that she should rest for a while before they took up the last stretch of the way.
It was midnight now, and they had been traveling for many hours over rough mountain trails. There was more strength than one would look for in so slender a figure, yet Melissy was drooping with fatigue.
“It’s not far now. We’ll be there in a few minutes,” MacQueen promised her.