“See thet little green spot,” said Roy, pointing. “Thet's Snowdrop. An' the other one—'way to the right—thet's Show Down.”
“Where is Pine?” queried Helen, eagerly.
“Farther still, up over the foot-hills at the edge of the woods.”
“Then we're riding away from it.”
“Yes. If we'd gone straight for Pine thet gang could overtake us. Pine is four days' ride. An' by takin' to the mountains Milt can hide his tracks. An' when he's thrown Anson off the scent, then he'll circle down to Pine.”
“Mr. Dale, do you think you'll get us there safely—and soon?” asked Helen, wistfully.
“I won't promise soon, but I promise safe. An' I don't like bein' called Mister,” he replied.
“Are we ever going to eat?” inquired Bo, demurely.
At this query Roy Beeman turned with a laugh to look at Bo. Helen saw his face fully in the light, and it was thin and hard, darkly bronzed, with eyes like those of a hawk, and with square chin and lean jaws showing scant, light beard.
“We shore are,” he replied. “Soon as we reach the timber. Thet won't be long.”