Boyle did not reply; he was eagerly examining the coach.  In that brief hour and a half the dust of the plain had blown thick upon it, and covered any foul stain or blot that might have suggested the awful truth.  Even the soft imprint of the Indians’ moccasined feet had been trampled out by the later horse hoofs of the cavalrymen.  It was these that first attracted Boyle’s attention, but he thought them the marks made by the plunging of the released coach horses.

Not so his companion!  She was examining them more closely, and suddenly lifted her bright, animated face.  “Look!” she said; “our men have been here, and have had a hand in this—­whatever it is.”

“Our men?” repeated Boyle blankly.

“Yes!—­troopers from the post—­the escort I told you of.  These are the prints of the regulation cavalry horseshoe—­not of Foster’s team, nor of Indian ponies, who never have any!  Don’t you see?” she went on eagerly; “our men have got wind of something and have galloped down here—­along the ridge—­see!” she went on, pointing to the hoof prints coming from the plain.  “They’ve anticipated some Indian attack and secured everything.”

“But if they were the same escort you spoke of, they must have known you were here, and have”—­he was about to say “abandoned you,” but checked himself, remembering they were her father’s soldiers.

“They knew I could take care of myself, and wouldn’t stand in the way of their duty,” said the young girl, anticipating him with quick professional pride that seemed to fit her aquiline nose and tall figure.  “And if they knew that,” she added, softening with a mischievous smile, “they also knew, of course, that I was protected by a gallant stranger vouched for by Mr. Foster!  No!” she added, with a certain blind, devoted confidence, which Boyle noticed with a slight wince that she had never shown before, “it’s all right! and ‘by orders,’ Mr. Boyle, and when they’ve done their work they’ll be back.”

But Boyle’s masculine common sense was, perhaps, safer than Miss Cantire’s feminine faith and inherited discipline, for in an instant he suddenly comprehended the actual truth!  The Indians had been there first; they had despoiled the coach and got off safely with their booty and prisoners on the approach of the escort, who were now naturally pursuing them with a fury aroused by the belief that their commander’s daughter was one of their prisoners.  This conviction was a dreadful one, yet a relief as far as the young girl was concerned.  But should he tell her?  No!  Better that she should keep her calm faith in the triumphant promptness of the soldiers—­and their speedy return.

“I dare say you are right,” he said cheerfully, “and let us be thankful that in the empty coach you’ll have at least a half-civilized shelter until they return.  Meantime I’ll go and reconnoitre a little.”

“I will go with you,” she said.

But Boyle pointed out to her so strongly the necessity of her remaining to wait for the return of the soldiers that, being also fagged out by her long climb, she obediently consented, while he, even with his inspiration of the truth, did not believe in the return of the despoilers, and knew she would be safe.