SON OF THE WIND
enough, though very impatient, and turned his amazement on his companion. "How did she get here?"
"Down the trail. It was quite easy," Blanche answered. "I brought them before dark."
"Before dark! Good Lord—six hours ago!" He was horrified. "You shouldn't have left her here like that! Six hours! Suppose something had happened!"
"What could? She is covered, and there are no animals around that would attack a horse."
"I say you had no business to do it. It's risky, and we don't need them."
"But we do!"
His anger grew faint in astonishment. "Then why couldn't we have gone some other way?"
"We couldn't."
He stared. She, sensitive to the lightest disapproving word, was undisturbed by his heat, imperturbable, smiling. There was no being angry with this girl, whose bright enigmatic glance promised enchantment, if only he would risk a horse, and a wild way, and follow her. Many horses might be ridden to death for her, and more dangerous ways than this followed with her. His anger had sprung from the fixed passions of his life, the distinctive predeliction that was part of his character, but there
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