. Unconsciously she waited for a cue,
and the cue was not given.

Al's mind seemed intent upon making Skinner comfortable. Still, he kept
an eye on Lorraine, and he did not turn his back to her. Lorraine looked
over to where Snake, too exhausted to eat, stood with drooping head and
all four legs braced like sticks under him. It flashed across her mind
that not even her old director would order her to make a run for that
horse and try to get away on him. Snake looked as if he would never move
from that position until he toppled over.

Al pulled the bridle off Skinner, gave him a half-affectionate slap on
the rump, and watched him go off, switching his tail and nosing the
ground for a likable place to roll. Al's glance went on to Snake, and
from him to Lorraine.

"You sure do know how to ride hell out of a horse," he remarked. "Now
he'll be stiff and sore to-morrow--and we've got quite a ride to make."

His tone of disapproval sent a guilty feeling through Lorraine, until
she remembered that a slow horse might save her from this man who was
all bad,--except, perhaps, just on the surface which was not altogether
repellent. She looked around at the tiny basin set like a saucer among
the pines. Already the dusk was painting deep shadows in the woods
across the opening, and turning the sky a darker blue. Skinner rolled
over twice, got up and shook himself with a satisfied snort and went
away to feed. She might, if she were patient, run to the horse when Al's
back was turned, she thought. Once in the woods she might have some
chance of eluding him, and perhaps Skinner would show as much wisdom
going as he had in coming, and take her down to the sageland.

But Skinner walked to the farther edge of the meadow before he stopped,
and Al Woodruff never turned his back to a foe. An owl hooted
unexpectedly, and Lorraine edged closer to her captor, who was gathering
dead branches one by one and throwing them toward a certain spot which
he had evidently selected for a campfire. He looked at her keenly, even
suspiciously, and pointed with the stick in his left hand.

"You might go over there by the saddle and set down till I get a fire
going," he said. "Don't go wandering around aimless, like a hen turkey,
watching a chance to duck into the brush. There's bear in there and lion
and lynx, and I'd hate to see you chawed. They never clean their
toe-nails, and blood poison generally sets in where they leave a
scratch. Go and set down.