Ask him
whether I'm to bring her up. She's played out and can't travel
far, tell him."
The showman rode on his errand and the other returned to Helen.
"You better light, ma'am. We'll have to wait here a few minutes,"
he explained.
He helped her dismount. She did not understand why it was
necessary to wait, but that was his business and not hers. Her
roving eyes fell upon the cattle again.
"They ARE my uncle's, aren't they?"
"They were," he corrected. "Cattle change hands a good deal in
this country," he added dryly.
"Then you're not one of his riders?" Her stark eyes passed over
him swiftly.
"No, ma'am."
"Are we far from the Rocking Chair?"
"A right smart distance. You've been traveling, you see, for
eight or nine hours."
It occurred to her that there was something elusive, something
not quite frank, about the replies of this young man. Her glance
raked him again and swept up the details of his person. One of
them that impressed itself upon her mind was the absence of a
finger on his right hand. Another was that he was a walking
arsenal. This startled her, though she was not yet afraid.
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