"Catherson is hard to catch," he said. "I've been over here a number of times, trying to see him." His voice was a note too high, and Randerson wondered whether, without the evidence of his eyes, he would have suspected Masten. He decided that he would, and his smile was a trifle grim. "I reckon Catherson is a regular dodger," he returned. "He's always gallivantin' around the country when somebody wants to see him." He smiled gently at Hagar, with perhaps just a little pity. "It's getting along in the afternoon, Hagar," he said. "Dad ought to be amblin' back here before long." His face grew grave at the frightened light in her eyes when he continued: "I reckon me an' Masten better wait for him, so's he won't dodge us any more." He cast a glance around him. "Where's your cayuse?" he said to Masten. "I left him down near the ford," returned the other. "Right on your way back to the Flyin' W," said Randerson, as though the discovery pleased him. "I'm goin' to the Flyin' W, too, soon as I see Catherson. I reckon, if you two ain't got no particular yearnin' to go prowlin' around in the timber any longer, we'll all go back to Catherson's shack an' wait for him there. Three'll be company, while it'd be mighty lonesome for one." Masten cleared his throat and looked intently at Randerson's imperturbable face. Did he know anything? A vague unrest seized Masten. Involuntarily he shivered, and his voice was a little hoarse when he spoke, though he attempted to affect carelessness: "I don't think I will wait for Catherson," he said, "I can see him tomorrow, just as well." "Well, that's too bad," drawled Randerson. "After waitin' this long, too! But I reckon you're right; it wouldn't be no use waitin'. I'll go too, I reckon. We'll ride to the Flyin' W together." "I don't want to force my company on you, Randerson," laughed Masten nervously. "Besides, I had thought of taking the river trail--back toward Lazette, you know." Randerson looked at him with a cold smile. "The Lazette trail suits me too," he said; "we'll go that way." Masten looked at him again. The smile on Randerson's face was inscrutable. And now the pallor left Masten's cheeks and was succeeded by a color that burned. For he now was convinced and frightened. He heard Randerson speaking to Hagar, and so gentle was his voice that it startled him, so great was the contrast between it and the slumbering threat in his eyes and manner: