came sharply across to them until he dipped out of sight.

"You see, he wasn't a robber," Beatrice remarked, staring after him
speculatively. "How well he rides! One can see at a glance that he
almost lives in the saddle. I wonder who he is."

"For all you know, Beatrice, he may be going now to murder Richard and
Sir Redmond in cold blood. He looks perfectly hardened."

"Oh, do you think it possible?" cried Miss Hayes, much alarmed.

"No!" cried Beatrice hotly. "One who did not know your horror of
novels, mama, might suspect you of feeding your imagination upon 'penny
dreadfuls.' I'm sure he is only a cowboy, and won't harm anybody."

"Cowboys are as bad as highwaymen," contended her mother, "or worse. I
have read how they shoot men for a pastime, and without even the excuse
of robbery."

"Is it possible?" quavered Miss Hayes faintly.

"No, it isn't!" Beatrice assured her indignantly.

"He has the look of a criminal," declared Mrs. Lansell, in the positive
tone of one who speaks from intimate knowledge of the subject under
discussion. "I only hope he isn't going to murder--"

"They're coming back, mama," interrupted Beatrice, who had been
watching closely the hilltop. "No, it's that man, and he is driving the
horses."