“I reckon not.”
“Perhaps——”
“Well!”
“May I look—please?”
He handed her the glasses. She had to wait for the riders to reappear, but when they did she gave a little cry.
“Oh, is it?”
He looked at her steadily, ready to crush in her throat any call she might utter for help. But he soon saw that she had no intention of making her presence known. Her eyes were glued to the glasses. As long as the men were in sight she focused her gaze on them ravenously. At last a bend in the dry river bed hid them from view. She lowered the binoculars with a sigh.
“Lucky they didn’t see us,” he said, with his easy, sinister laugh. “Lucky for them.”
She noticed for the first time that he had uncased his rifle and was holding it across the saddle-tree.