After dinner she sent word to Roy and Carmichael that they had better ride out to look for Bo. Then Helen applied herself resolutely to her books until a rapid clatter of hoofs out in the court caused her to jump up and hurry to the porch. Roy was riding in.
“Did you find her?” queried Helen, hurriedly.
“Wasn't no track or sign of her up the north range,” replied Roy, as he dismounted and threw his bridle. “An' I was ridin' back to take up her tracks from the corral an' trail her. But I seen Las Vegas comin' an' he waved his sombrero. He was comin' up from the south. There he is now.”
Carmichael appeared swinging into the lane. He was mounted on Helen's big black Ranger, and he made the dust fly.
“Wal, he's seen her, thet's shore,” vouchsafed Roy, with relief, as Carmichael rode up.
“Miss Nell, she's comin',” said the cowboy, as he reined in and slid down with his graceful single motion. Then in a violent action, characteristic of him, he slammed his sombrero down on the porch and threw up both arms. “I've a hunch it's come off!”
“Oh, what?” exclaimed Helen.
“Now, Las Vegas, talk sense,” expostulated Roy. “Miss Helen is shore nervous to-day. Has anythin' happened?”
“I reckon, but I don't know what,” replied Carmichael, drawing a long breath. “Folks, I must be gettin' old. For I shore felt orful queer till I seen Bo. She was ridin' down the ridge across the valley. Ridin' some fast, too, an' she'll be here right off, if she doesn't stop in the village.”
“Wal, I hear her comin' now,” said Roy. “An'—if you asked me I'd say she WAS ridin' some fast.”