The actions of the three horses in the corral was what attracted his attention.  They were crowding the rail at the point nearest him, neighing shrilly, though with a curious clacking in their throats that he instantly detected.

“They’re wantin’ water,” he said aloud.  He rode to the water trough and saw that it was dry, with a deposit in the bottom which did not contain a drop of moisture.

“There ain’t been no water put in there since I left,” he decided; “them horses is chokin’ with thirst.”

A pulse of anxiety ran over him.  There was no doubt in his mind now that his presentiment of evil was not without foundation, and he wheeled his horse and sent it toward the house.

“Peggy would give them water if she was able to be on her feet,” he declared, “she’s that kind.”

But halfway to the house another thought assailed him.  It drew his brows together in a scowl, it stiffened his lips until they were in straight, hard lines.

“Mebbe Dale’s been here!  Mebbe he’s still here!”

He abruptly halted his horse and gazed around him.  As though he expected to find something there he looked toward a little timber grove to the right of the house, far back toward the rimming hills.  At the edge of the grove he saw a horse, saddled and bridled.

A quick change came over Nyland.  The blood left his face, and his eyes took on an expression of cold cunning.

Dismounting, he hitched his horse to one of the rails of the corral fence.  With his back turned to the house, his head cocked to one side, as though he were intent on the knot he was tying in the reins, he furtively watched the house.

He took a long time to tie the reins to the rail, but the time was well spent, for, before he finished, he saw a man’s face at one of the kitchen windows.

It was not Dale.  He was convinced of that, even though he got only a flashing glance at the face.

Danger threatened Peggy, or she had succumbed to it.  There was no other explanation of the presence of a strange man in the kitchen.  For if Peggy was able to walk, she would have watered the horses, she would have met him at the door, as she had always done.

And if the man were there for any good purpose he would have made his presence known to Nyland, and would not have hidden himself in the kitchen, to peer at Nyland through one of the windows.

Nyland was convinced that Peggy had been foully dealt with.  But haste and recklessness would avail Nyland little.  The great mingled rage and anxiety that had seized him demanded instant action, but he fought it down; and when he turned toward the house and began to walk toward the kitchen door, his manner—­outwardly—­was that of a man who has seen nothing to arouse his suspicions.

Yet despite the appearance of calm he was alert, and every muscle and sinew of his body was tensed for instant action.  And so, when he had approached to within a dozen feet of the kitchen door, and a man’s figure darkened the opening, he dove sidewise, drawing his gun as he went down and snapping a shot at the figure he had seen.