THE MAN IN SADDLE
"Thought you didn't know about it," Ferrier said, turning.
Without a quiver Carron caught up his mistake and made capital of it. "I know what I see from here," he said coldly, "and it looks to me very much as if your trail ran into those hills. It does, doesn't it, eh?" He pointed. "Over there?"
Ferrier corrected, "No, over there." With outstretched arm he indicated the place farther along, just out of their sight, where the Sphinx stood.
"Here or there," the horse-breaker insisted, "I've seen something of such hills and I'll be willing to bet we can't get horses through."
Ferrier looked sullen. "I'd forgotten you had to have them. I suppose, then, we'll have to go the long way."
Carron was relieved. He hadn't been certain Ferrier knew the long way. Blanche had mentioned it so casually. She had not said that he knew. Carron had only inferred and snatched at the inference. Now he was at the end of his doubts. He made short work of the tale. He had it all in a few moments, the place where they were to meet and the hour. He reckoned that, allowing time for packing the canvas, the half-breed would get in with the led horses in three hours. That would make their meeting at eleven, say. It was now past eight o'clock.
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