"I'll stay here till my back straightens out.... Will you ride out again?"
"Yes," replied Lucy, without looking at him; and she wondered if it were really she who was speaking.
Then he asked her about the Ford, and Bostil, and the ranches and villages north, and the riders and horses. Lucy told him everything she knew and could think of, and, lastly, after waxing eloquent on the horses of the uplands, particularly Bostil's, she gave him a graphic account of Cordts and Dick Sears.
"Horse-thieves!" exclaimed the rider, darkly. There was a grimness as well as fear in his tone. "I've heard of Sears, but not Cordts. Where does this band hang out?"
"No one knows. Holley says they hide up in the canyon country. None of the riders have ever tried to track them far. It would be useless. Holley says there are plateaus of rich grass and great forests. The Ute Indians say that much, too. But we know little about the wild country."
"Aren't there any hunters at Bostil's Ford?"
"Wild-horse hunters, you mean?"
"No. Bear an' deer hunters."
"There's none. And I suppose that's why we're not familiar with the wild canyon country. I'd like to ride in there sometime and camp. But our people don't go in for that. They love the open ranges. No one I know, except a half-witted boy, ever rode down among these monuments. And how wonderful a place! It can't be more than twenty miles from home.... I must be going soon. I'm forgetting Sage King. Did I tell you I was training him for the races?"
"No, you didn't. What races? Tell me," he replied, with keen interest.