With an abrupt gesture Law flung aside the contents of his cup and
strode to Panfilo's horse, which stood dejectedly with reins
hanging.
"Where are you--going?" Alaire rose nervously.
It was nearly dark now; only the crests of the ridges were plain
against the luminous sky; in the brushy bottom of the arroyo the
shadows were deep. Alaire had no wish to be left alone with the
prisoner.
With bridle-rein and carbine in his left hand, the Ranger halted,
then, stooping for Anto's discarded cartridge-belt, he looped it
over his saddle-horn. He vaulted easily into the seat, saying:
"I hid that mare pretty well. Your man may not be able to find
her." Then he turned his borrowed horse's head toward the brush.
Anto had squatted motionless until this moment; he had not even
turned his eyes; but now, without the slightest warning, he
uttered a loud call. It might have served equally well as a
summons or as an alarm, but it changed the Ranger's suspicions
into certainty. Dave uttered an angry exclamation, then to the
startled woman he cried:
"Watch this man! He can't hurt you, for I've got his shells." To
his prisoner he said, sharply: "Stay where you are! Don't move!"
The next instant he had loped into the brush on the tracks of
Panfilo Sanchez, spurring the tired gray pony into vigorous
action.
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