They dropped into a hollow between the hills and left the ranch on their left. She was not satisfied, and yet she had not grounds enough upon which to base a suspicion. For surely the figure she had seen had been that of a man.
He let his horse take it easy, except when some impulse of mischief stirred him to break into a canter so as to make the girl put her arm round his waist for support. They stopped about noon by a stream in a cañon defile to lunch and rest the pony.
“I don’t remember this place at all. Are we near home?” she asked.
“About five miles. I reckon you’re right tired. It’s an unhandy way to ride.”
Every mile took them deeper into the mountains, through winding cañons and over unsuspected trails, and the girl’s uneasiness increased with the wildness of the country.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way? I Don’t think we can be,” she suggested more than once.
“Dead sure,” he answered the last time, letting Two-step turn into a blind draw opening from sheer cañon walls.
A hundred feet from the entrance they rode round a great slide of rock into a tiny valley containing a group of buildings.
He swung from the horse and offered a hand to help her dismount.
A reckless, unholy light burned in his daring eyes.