Howard's eyes travelled swiftly to Helen, then back to her father.

'And he didn't come back?'

'He did not,' said Longstreet. 'Otherwise I should not have asked if
you were he.'

Even yet Howard gave no direct answer. Instead he turned his back and
strode away to the deserted camp site. Helen watched him through the
bushes and noted how he made a quick but evidently thorough examination
of the spot. She saw him stoop, pick up frying-pan and cup, drop them
and pass around the spring, his eyes on the ground. Abruptly he turned
away and pushed through a clump of bushes, disappearing. In five
minutes he returned, his face thoughtful.

'What time did you get here?' he asked. And when he had his answer he
pondered it a moment before he went on: 'The gent didn't leave his
card. But he broke camp in a regular blue-blazes hurry; saddled his
horse over yonder and struck out the shortest way toward King Cañon.
He went as if the devil himself and his one best bet in hell hounds was
running at his stirrups.'

'How do you know?' queried Longstreet's insatiable curiosity. 'You
didn't see him?'

'You saw the fire and the things he left stewing,' countered Howard.
'They spelled hurry, didn't they? Didn't they shout into your ears
that he was on the lively scamper for some otherwhere?'