As though he
expected to find something there he looked toward a little timber grove
to the right of the house, far back toward the rimming hills. At the
edge of the grove he saw a horse, saddled and bridled.
A quick change came over Nyland. The blood left his face, and his eyes
took on an expression of cold cunning.
Dismounting, he hitched his horse to one of the rails of the corral
fence. With his back turned to the house, his head cocked to one side,
as though he were intent on the knot he was tying in the reins, he
furtively watched the house.
He took a long time to tie the reins to the rail, but the time was well
spent, for, before he finished, he saw a man's face at one of the
kitchen windows.
It was not Dale. He was convinced of that, even though he got only a
flashing glance at the face.
Danger threatened Peggy, or she had succumbed to it. There was no
other explanation of the presence of a strange man in the kitchen. For
if Peggy was able to walk, she would have watered the horses, she would
have met him at the door, as she had always done.
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