A soft patter of rain on the tarpaulin warned Helen to remember Dale's directions, and, pulling up the heavy covering, she arranged it hoodlike over the saddle. Then, with Bo close and warm beside her, she closed her eyes, and the sense of the black forest and the wind and rain faded.
Last of all sensations was the smell of smoke that blew under the tarpaulin.
When she opened her eyes she remembered everything, as if only a moment had elapsed. But it was daylight, though gray and cloudy. The pines were dripping mist. A fire crackled cheerily and blue smoke curled upward and a savory odor of hot coffee hung in the air. Horses were standing near by, biting and kicking at one another. Bo was sound asleep. Dale appeared busy around the camp-fire. As Helen watched the hunter she saw him pause in his task, turn his ear to listen, and then look expectantly. And at that juncture a shout pealed from the forest. Helen recognized Roy's voice.
Then she heard a splashing of water, and hoof-beats coming closer. With that the buckskin mustang trotted into camp, carrying Roy.
"Bad mornin' for ducks, but good for us," he called.
"Howdy, Roy!" greeted Dale, and his gladness was unmistakable. "I was lookin' for you."Roy appeared to slide off the mustang without effort, and his swift hands slapped the straps as he unsaddled. Buckskin was wet with sweat and foam mixed with rain. He heaved. And steam rose from him.
"Must have rode hard," observed Dale.
"I shore did," replied Roy. Then he espied Helen, who had sat up, with hands to her hair, and eyes staring at him.
"Mornin', miss. It's good news."
"Thank Heaven!" murmured Helen, and then she shook Bo. That young lady awoke, but was loath to give up slumber. "Bo! Bo!
Wake up! Mr. Roy is back."
Whereupon Bo sat up, disheveled and sleepy-eyed.
"Oh-h, but I ache!" she moaned. But her eyes took in the camp scene to the effect that she added, "Is breakfast ready?""Almost. An' flapjacks this mornin'," replied Dale.
Bo manifested active symptoms of health in the manner with which she laced her boots. Helen got their traveling-bag, and with this they repaired to a flat stone beside the spring, not, however, out of earshot of the men.
"How long are you goin' to hang around camp before tellin' me?" inquired Dale.
"Jest as I figgered, Milt," replied Roy. "Thet rider who passed you was a messenger to Anson. He an' his gang got on our trail quick. About ten o'clock I seen them comin'. Then I lit out for the woods. I stayed off in the woods close enough to see where they come in. An' shore they lost your trail. Then they spread through the woods, workin' off to the south, thinkin', of course, thet you would circle round to Pine on the south side of Old Baldy. There ain't a hoss-tracker in Snake Anson's gang, thet's shore. Wal, Ifollered them for an hour till they'd rustled some miles off our trail. Then I went back to where you struck into the woods. An' I waited there all afternoon till dark, expectin' mebbe they'd back-trail. But they didn't. I rode on a ways an' camped in the woods till jest before daylight.""So far so good," declared Dale.
"Shore. There's rough country south of Baldy an' along the two or three trails Anson an' his outfit will camp, you bet.""It ain't to be thought of," muttered Dale, at some idea that had struck him.
"What ain't?"
"Goin' round the north side of Baldy."
"It shore ain't," rejoined Roy, bluntly.
"Then I've got to hide tracks certain -- rustle to my camp an' stay there till you say it's safe to risk takin' the girls to Pine.""Milt, you're talkin' the wisdom of the prophets.""I ain't so sure we can hide tracks altogether. If Anson had any eyes for the woods he'd not have lost me so soon.
"No. But, you see, he's figgerin' to cross your trail.""If I could get fifteen or twenty mile farther on an' hide tracks certain, I'd feel safe from pursuit, anyway," said the hunter, reflectively.
"Shore an' easy," responded Roy, quickly. "I jest met up with some greaser sheep-herders drivin' a big flock. They've come up from the south an' are goin' to fatten up at Turkey Senacas. Then they'll drive back south an' go on to Phenix.
Wal, it's muddy weather. Now you break camp quick an' make a plain trail out to thet sheep trail, as if you was travelin' south. But, instead, you ride round ahead of thet flock of sheep. They'll keep to the open parks an' the trails through them necks of woods out here. An', passin' over your tracks, they'll hide 'em.""But supposin' Anson circles an' hits this camp? He'll track me easy out to that sheep trail. What then?""Jest what you want. Goin' south thet sheep trail is downhill an' muddy. It's goin' to rain hard. Your tracks would get washed out even if you did go south. An' Anson would keep on thet way till he was clear off the scent.
Leave it to me, Milt. You're a hunter. But I'm a hoss-tracker.""All right. We'll rustle."
Then he called the girls to hurry.
