“We'll hang up awhile,” he said. “Reckon you're tired?” “I'm hungry, but not tired yet,” replied Bo. Helen dismounted, to find that walking was something she had apparently lost the power to do. Bo laughed at her, but she, too, was awkward when once more upon the ground. Then Roy got down. Helen was surprised to find him lame. He caught her quick glance. “A hoss threw me once an' rolled on me. Only broke my collar-bone, five ribs, one arm, an' my bow-legs in two places!” Notwithstanding this evidence that he was a cripple, as he stood there tall and lithe in his homespun, ragged garments, he looked singularly powerful and capable. “Reckon walkin' around would be good for you girls,” advised Dale. “If you ain't stiff yet, you'll be soon. An' walkin' will help. Don't go far. I'll call when breakfast's ready.” A little while later the girls were whistled in from their walk and found camp-fire and meal awaiting them. Roy was sitting cross-legged, like an Indian, in front of a tarpaulin, upon which was spread a homely but substantial fare. Helen's quick eye detected a cleanliness and thoroughness she had scarcely expected to find in the camp cooking of men of the wilds. Moreover, the fare was good. She ate heartily, and as for Bo's appetite, she was inclined to be as much ashamed of that as amused at it. The young men were all eyes, assiduous in their service to the girls, but speaking seldom. It was not lost upon Helen how Dale's gray gaze went often down across the open country. She divined apprehension from it rather than saw much expression in it. “I--declare,” burst out Bo, when she could not eat any more, “this isn't believable. I'm dreaming.... Nell, the black horse you rode is the prettiest I ever saw.” Ranger, with the other animals, was grazing along the little brook. Packs and saddles had been removed. The men ate leisurely. There was little evidence of hurried flight. Yet Helen could not cast off uneasiness. Roy might have been deep, and careless, with a motive to spare the girls' anxiety, but Dale seemed incapable of anything he did not absolutely mean. “Rest or walk,” he advised the girls. “We've got forty miles to ride before dark.” Helen preferred to rest, but Bo walked about, petting the horses and prying into the packs. She was curious and eager. Dale and Roy talked in low tones while they cleaned up the utensils and packed them away in a heavy canvas bag. “You really expect Anson 'll strike my trail this mornin'?” Dale was asking. “I shore do,” replied Roy. “An' how do you figure that so soon?” “How'd you figure it--if you was Snake Anson?” queried Roy, in reply. “Depends on that rider from Magdalena,” Said Dale, soberly. “Although it's likely I'd seen them wheel tracks an' hoss tracks made where we turned off. But supposin' he does.” “Milt, listen. I told you Snake met us boys face to face day before yesterday in Show Down. An' he was plumb curious.” “But he missed seein' or hearin' about me,” replied Dale.