a foothill she saw dust, and then the dark, moving figure of a
horse. She was watching when Florence returned with the glass.
Bill took a long look, adjusted the glasses carefully, and tried
again.

"Wal, I hate to admit my eyes are gettin' pore. But I guess I'll
hev to. Thet's Gene Stewart's hoss, saddled, an' comin' at a
fast clip without a rider. It's amazin' strange, an' some in
keepin' with other things concernin' Gene."

"Give me the glass," said Al. "Yes, I was right. Bill, the horse
is not frightened. He's coming steadily; he's got something on
his mind."

"Thet's a trained hoss, Al. He has more sense than some men I
know. Take a look with the glasses up the hollow. See anybody?"

"No."

"Swing up over the foothills--where the trail leads. Higher--
along thet ridge where the rocks begin. See anybody?"

"By Jove! Bill--two horses! But I can't make out much for dust.
They are climbing fast. One horse gone among the rocks. There--
the other's gone. What do you make of that?"

"Wal, I can't make no more 'n you. But I'll bet we know
somethin' soon, fer Gene's hoss is comin' faster as he nears the
ranch."