"Suits me. I'll take you up on that. He's to horsewhip you for that fool trick you played on us and to make good our loss. Where's his camp?"
From the distance of a stone-throw a heavy, raucous voice called,
"'Lo, Morse!"
The young man turned to the girl, his lips set in a thin, hard line.
"Bully West. The dog's gone back and is bringin' him here, I reckon.
Like to meet him?"
She knew the reputation of Bully West, notorious as a brawler and a libertine. Who in all the North did not know of it? Her heart fluttered a signal of despair.
"I—I can get away yet—up the valley," she said in a whisper, eyes quick with fear.
He smiled grimly. "You mean we can."
"Yes."
"Hit the trail."
She turned and led the way into the darkness.