She flamed.  “I’ve nothing against you, Mr. Dingwell, but you might as well know that what I’ve done was for my people.  I don’t want them to get into trouble.  If it hadn’t been for that—­”

“You’d ‘a’ done it just the same,” the cattleman finished for her with a smile.  “You can’t make me mad to-night after going the limit for us the way you have.”

Beaudry, sagging over the horn of the saddle, added his word timidly, but the Rutherford girl would have none of his thanks.

“You don’t owe me anything, I tell you.  How many times have I got to say that it is nothing to me what becomes of you?” she replied, flushing angrily.  “All I ask is that you don’t cross my path again.  Next time I’ll let Jess Tighe have his way.”

“I didn’t go into the park to spy on your people, Miss Rutherford.  I went to—­”

“I care nothing about why you came.”  The girl turned to Dingwell, her chin in the air.  “Better let him rest every mile or two.  I don’t want him breaking down in our country after all the trouble I’ve taken.”

“You may leave him to me.  I’ll look out for him,” Dave promised.

“Just so that you don’t let him get caught again,” she added.

Her manner was cavalier, her tone almost savage.  Without another word she turned and left them.

Dingwell watched her slim form disappear into the night.

“Did you ever see such a little thoroughbred?” he asked admiringly.  “I take off my hat to her.  She’s the gamest kid I ever met—­and pretty as they grow.  Just think of her pulling off this getaway to-night.  It was a man-size job, and that little girl never turned a hair from start to finish.  And loyal!  By Gad!  Hal Rutherford hasn’t earned fidelity like that, even if he has been father and mother to her since she was a year old.  He’d ought to send her away from that hell-hole and give her a chance.”

“What will they do to her when she gets back?”

Dave chuckled.  “They can’t do a thing.  That’s the beauty of it.  There’ll be a lot of tall cussing in Huerfano for a while, but after Hal has onloaded what’s on his chest he’ll stand between her and the rest.”

“Sure of that?”

“It’s a cinch.”  The cattleman laughed softly.  “But ain’t she the little spitfire?  I reckon she sure hates you thorough.”

Roy did not answer.  He was sliding from the back of his horse in a faint.

When Beaudry opened his eyes again, Dingwell was pouring water into his mouth from a canteen that had been hanging to the pommel of Miss Rutherford’s saddle.

“Was I unconscious?” asked the young man in disgust.

“That’s whatever.  Just you lie there, son, whilst I fix these bandages up for you again.”

The cattleman moistened the hot cloths with cold water and rearranged them.

“We ought to be hurrying on,” Roy suggested, glancing anxiously down the steep ascent up which they had ridden.