The blood leaped in Andrew, and then ran coldly back to his heart. Could they have outridden the gelding to such an extent as that?
"From Tomo?" he asked.
"Tomo? No. They come down from Gunter City, up yonder, and Twin Falls."
And Andrew understood. Well indeed had Hal Dozier fulfilled his threat of rousing the mountains against this quarry. He glanced westward. It was yet an hour lacking of sundown, but since mid-morning Dozier had been able to send his messages so far and so wide. Andrew set his teeth. What did cunning of head and speed of horse count against the law when the law had electricity for its agent?
"Well," said Andrew, slipping from his saddle, "if he hasn't been by this way I may as well stay over for the night. If they've hunted the woods around here all day, no use in me doing it by night. Can you put me up?"
"Can I put you up? I'll tell a man. Glad to have you, stranger. Gimme your hoss. I'll take care of him. Looks like he was kind of ganted up, don't it? Well, I'll give him a feed of oats that'll thicken his ribs. Barley don't do nothin' but heat up a hoss; oats is the thing."
Still talking, he led the gelding into his shed. Andrew followed, took off the saddle, and, having led the chestnut out and down to the creek for a drink, he returned and tied him to a manger which the trapper had filled with a liberal supply of hay, to say nothing of a feed box stuffed with oats.
A man who was kind to a horse could not be treacherous to a man, Andrew decided.
"You're Hank Rainer, aren't you?" he asked.
"That's me. And you?"
"I'm the unwelcome guest, I'm afraid," said Andrew.
