"Can't stop on the way down," he said regretfully, "but we'll surely do it on the way back. How are the youngsters?" "They've missed you." A happy smile lighted Dunbar's face and he said to Ellis, "Take good care of this young lady." "I will," Ellis assured him. His eyes swept Gearey once more, and again Barbara saw that there was something explosive in Ellis, something a girl ought to worry about. They went on, walking their horses most of the time but trotting them occasionally. Clouds spanned the sky and the sun disappeared, and when it did the cold seemed more intense. Barbara thought of the lunch that her mother had packed. "I'm hungry," she said. Morosely he replied, "It isn't noon yet." "Let's eat anyway." "Your wish is my command, Your Highness." There was resentment still in his voice. Ellis dismounted, helped Barbara dismount, and rein-tied the horses. He made his way to a stand of pine a few feet off the Trail, broke an armful of the brittle lower branches from them, and started a fire beside the packed snow. Barbara moved into its circle of warmth and unpacked the sandwiches. She thought they were roast buffalo, but when she opened them she saw that they contained the last of the Christmas ham. She knew a flush of gratitude toward her mother who, when sending young people out for a royal time, would also provide them with a royal feast. "This is good!" she called to him, but Ellis was eating silently, scarcely aware of the food at all. Barbara laughed, took a generous bite, and ate hungrily. Ellis finished his sandwich and took another. He was about to eat it when he straightened and looked down the Trail. When he turned to her, his face was serious. "I don't like it." She said airily, "What don't you like?" He moved away from her studying the sky and the movements of the branches. "The wind's shifted from north to east." "Can't the wind change its mind?" "Bobby," he was very earnest, "we're in for a storm. We'd better ride." She was uncertain. "Are you sure?" "I'm dead sure!" He helped her repack the sandwiches and returned them to her saddlebag. She felt a rising concern and a little fear. But after he helped her mount his horse and she looked down at him, she steadied. There was going to be a storm because he had said so. But he seemed calm, and somehow she felt that he would know what to do about it. "We're going to make time," he told her. "I've put you on King because he'll follow me and I know he'll keep up. If you need anything, say so." A cold chill brushed Barbara's spine when they were again moving. The wind, that had fanned their left cheeks since they'd started, was now full in their faces and Barbara bent her head against it. She had an overwhelming sense of something terrible about to be. It was as though a great, grim beast lurked in the overcast sky and was preparing to pounce on them.