. That's about the worst thing you can do."

Lorraine gave him a grateful glance and a faint attempt at a smile, and
rode up the trail she always took,--the trail where she had met Lone
that day when he returned her purse, the trail that led to Fred
Thurman's ranch and to Sugar Spring and, if you took a certain turn at a
certain place, to Granite Ridge and beyond.

Up on the ridge nearest the house Al Woodruff shifted his position so
that he could watch her go. He had been watching Lone and Swan and the
dog, trailing certain tracks through the sagebrush down below, and when
Lorraine rode away from the Quirt they were in the wagon road, fussing
around the place where Frank had been found.

"They can't pin nothing on _me_," Al tried to comfort himself. "If that
damn girl would keep her mouth shut I could stand a trial, even. They
ain't got any evidence whatever, unless she saw me at Rock City that
night." He turned and looked again toward the two men down on the road
and tilted his mouth down at the corners in a sour grin.

"Go to it and be damned to you!" he muttered. "You haven't got the dope,
and you can't git it, either. Trail that horse if you want to--I'd like
to see yuh amuse yourselves that way!"

He turned again to stare after Lorraine, meditating deeply. If she had
only been a man, he would have known exactly how to still her tongue,
but he had never before been called upon to deal with the problem of
keeping a woman quiet. He saw that she was taking the trail toward Fred
Thurman's, and that she was riding swiftly, as if she had some errand in
that direction, something urgent. Al was very adept at reading men's
moods and intentions from small details in their behavior. He had seen
Lorraine start on several leisurely, purposeless rides, and her changed
manner held a significance which he did not attempt to belittle.

He led his horse down the side of the ridge opposite the road and the
house, mounted there and rode away after Lorraine, keeping parallel with
the trail but never using it, as was his habit. He made no attempt to
overtake her, and not once did Lorraine glimpse him or suspect that she
was being followed. Al knew well the art of concealing his movements and
his proximity from the inquisitive eyes of another man's saddle horse,
and Snake had no more suspicion than his rider that they were not
altogether alone that morning.

Lorraine sent him over the trail at a pace which Jim had long since
reser