CHAPTER X


A BIT OF STALKING

It seemed as if the peaceful afternoons of Logan were ended forever, for
the next day the scene of interruption was repeated under almost
identical circumstances, save that the tree under which the shepherd sat
was a little larger. Larger also was the man who rode over the brow of
the hill to the east. The most durable cattle-pony would have staggered
under the bulk of that rider, and therefore he rode a great,
patient-eyed bay, with shoulders worthy of shoving against a
work-collar; but the neck tapered down small behind a short head, and
the legs, for all their breadth at shoulder and hip, slipped away to
small hoofs, and ankles which sloped sharply to the rear, the sure sign
of the fine saddle-horse.

Yet the strong horse was winded by the burden he bore, a mighty figure,
deep-chested, amply shouldered, an ideal cavalier for the days when
youths rode out in armour-plate to seek adventures and when men of
fifty still lifted the lance to run a "friendly" course or two in the
lists.

At sight of him Logan so far bestirred himself as to uncoil his long
legs, rise, and stand with one shoulder propped against the tree.

"Evening, Mr. Drew," he called.

"Hello, Logan. How's everything with you?"