Betty spoke up, quietly, unexpectedly. “So do Mr. Hollister and I.”
The two ranchmen pivoted simultaneously toward her. They waited, only their eyes asking the girl what she meant.
“While you were digging, Mr. Hollister saw two men up there. He pointed them out to me.”
“And why didn’t you show ’em to me?” demanded her father.
“What would you have done if I had?” she countered.
“Done! Gone up an’ found out who they were, though I could give a good guess right now.”
“And do you think they would have let you come near? We could see that one of them had a rifle. Maybe both had. They didn’t stay there long, but I was afraid every second that you’d look up and see them.”
The foreman grunted appreciation of her sagacity. “Some head she’s got, Clint. You’d sure have started after them birds, me like as not trailin’ after you. An’ you’d sure never have got to ’em.”
The cowman made no comment on that. “He timed it mighty close. Saw us coming, of course, an’ figured how long it would take us to reach where we did. Good guessing. An old fox, I’ll say.”
“Same here.”