Mr. Black cast a glance behind him, saw that the door of the house was almost closed and ventured to put another question.

“What did he ask you when he came out here?”

“Why we had chosen such an early hour to bring him his father’s message.”

“And what did you say?”

“Wa’al, I said that there was another fellow down my way awful eager to see him, too; and that you were mortal anxious to get to him first.  That was about it, wasn’t it, sir?”

“Yes.  And how did he take that?”

“He turned white, and asked me just what I meant.  Then I said that some one wanted him pretty bad, for, early as it was, this stranger was up as soon as you, and had followed us into the mountains and might show up any time on the road.  At which he gave me a stare, then plunged back into the house to get his hat and trot out his horse.  I never saw quicker work.  But it’s no use; he can’t escape those men.  They know it, or they wouldn’t have stopped where they did, waiting for him.”

Mr. Black recalled the aspect of the gully, and decided that Mr. Sloan was right.  There could be but one end to this adventure.  Oliver would be caught in a manifest effort to escape, and the judge’s cup of sorrow and humiliation would be full.  He felt the shame of it himself; also the folly of his own methods and of the part he had allowed Reuther to play.  Beckoning to his host to follow him, he turned towards the house.

“Don’t mention your fears to the young lady,” said he.  “At least, not till we are well past the gully.”

“I shan’t mention anything.  Don’t you be afeared of that.”

And with a simultaneous effort difficult for both, they assumed a more cheerful air, and briskly entered the house.

It was not until they were well upon the road back that Reuther ventured to speak of Oliver.  She was riding as far from the edge of the precipice as possible.  In descent it looked very formidable to her unaccustomed eye.

“This is a dangerous road for a man to ride bareback,” she remarked.  “I’m terrified when I think of it, Mr. Black.  Why did he go off quite so suddenly?  Is there a train he is anxious to reach?  Mr. Sloan, is there a train?”

“Yes, Miss, there is a train.”

“Which he can get by riding fast?”

“I’ve known it done!”

“Then he is excusable.”  Yet her anxious glance stole ever and again to the dizzy verge towards which she now unconsciously urged her own horse till Mr. Black drew her aside.

“There is nothing to fear in that direction,” said he.  “Oliver’s horse is to be trusted, if not himself.  Cheer up, little one, we’ll soon be on more level ground and then for a quick ride and a speedy end to this suspense.”

He was rewarded by a confiding look, after which they all fell silent.

A half-hour’s further descent, then a quick turn and Mr. Sloan, who had ridden on before them, came galloping hastily back.