She had finished her bandage.  She looked up at him.  “Go back?  But you must have just started from there a few hours ago.”

“Well, ma’am, I didn’t come very direct.  I kind of shifted round.  But I can go back straight.  And I’d really rather.  I think I’d better.  It was all foolishness my coming over.  I can put you up back of me on my horse, if you don’t mind, and we’ll get to Rusty before it’s lit up.  I’d rather.  You don’t mind riding that way, do you?  You see, if I put you up and walked, it’d take lots more time.”

“I don’t mind,” said Sheila, but she said it rather proudly so that Hilliard smiled.

“Well, ma’am, we can try it, anyway.  If you go back to the road, I’ll get my horse.”

He seemed to have hidden his horse in a density of trees a mile from the road.  Sheila waited till she thought she must have dreamed her meeting with him.  He came back, looking a trifle sheepish.

“You see,” he said, “I didn’t come by the road, ma’am.”

The horse was a large, bony animal with a mean eye.

“That isn’t the pony you rode when you came to Millings,” said Sheila.

He bent to examine his saddle-girth.  “No, ma’am,” he said gently.  “I’ve been riding quite a variety of horse-flesh lately.  I’ll get on first if you don’t mind and give you a hand up.  You put your foot on mine.  The horse will stand.”

Sheila obeyed, pressing her lips tight, for she was afraid.  However, his long, supple fingers closed over her wrist like steel and she got quickly and easily to her perch and clung nervously to him.

“That’s right.  Put your arms round tight.  Are you all fixed?”

“Y—­yes.”

“And comfortable?”

“Y—­yes, I think so.”

“We’re off, then.”

They started on a quick, steady walk down the road.  Once, Cosme loosened the six-shooter on his hip.  He whistled incessantly through his teeth.  Except for this, they were both silent.

“Were you coming to Millings?” asked Sheila at last.  She was of the world where silence has a certain oppressive significance.  She was getting used to her peculiar physical position and found she did not have to cling so desperately.  But in a social sense she was embarrassed.  He was quite impersonal about the situation, which made matters easier for her.  Now and then she suppressed a frantic impulse to giggle.

“Yes, ma’am.  To see you,” he answered.  “I never rightly thanked you.”  She saw the back of his neck flush and she blushed too, remembering his quickly diverted kiss which had left a smear of blood across her fingers.  That had happened only a few days before, but they were long days.  He too must have been well occupied.  There was still a bruise on his temple.  “I—­I wasn’t quite right in the head after those fellows had beat me up, and I kind of wanted to show you that I am something like a gentleman.”

“Have you been in Hidden Creek?”