Young Rutherford's eyes narrowed. It was plain that he had been caught by surprise and did not know what to do.
"Where you going?" he asked.
"What do you care where he is going? Get the horse—or I will," she ordered imperiously.
"I'm going to board at one of the ranches farther up the park," explained Roy.
"Better wait till dad comes home," suggested Hal.
"No, I'll go now." Royal Beaudry spoke with the obstinacy of a timid man who was afraid to postpone the decision.
"No hurry, is there?" The black eyes of Rutherford fixed him steadily.
His sister broke in impatiently. "Can't he go when he wants to, Hal? Get Mr. Street's horse." She whirled on Beaudry scornfully. "That is what you call yourself, isn't it—Street?"
The unhappy youth murmured "Yes."
"Let him get his own horse if he wants to hit the trail in such a hurry," growled Hal sulkily.