She had him wet from his
ears to his tail, and he was breathin' like that Ford at the ranch. If
that's a sample of her riding, she ain't far off."
"Crazy--to ride up here. Keep your eyes open, boys. We must find her,
whatever we do." Warfield gazed apprehensively at the rugged steeps on
either hand and at the timber line above them. "From here on she
couldn't turn back without meeting us--if I remember this country
correctly. Could she, Hawkins?"
"Not unless she turned off, up here a mile or two, into that gulch that
heads into Skyline," said Hawkins. "There's a stock trail part way down
from the top where it swings off from the divide to Wilder Creek."
Swan, walking just behind Hawkins, moved up a pace.
"I could go on Skyline with Yack, and I could come down by those trail,"
he suggested diffidently, Swedishly, yet with a certain compelling
confidence. "What you think?"
"I think that's a damned good idea for a square head," Hawkins told him,
and repeated it to Warfield, who was riding ahead.
"Why, yes. We don't need the dog, or the man either. Go up to the head
of the gulch and keep your eyes open, Swan.
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