By this time the rain had done its work, and to follow the tracks
became a matter of guesswork. Night was coming on also, and Dave
realized that at this rate darkness would find him far from his
goal. Therefore he risked his own interpretation of the rider's
intent and pushed on without pausing to search out the trail step
by step. At the second gate the signs indicated that his man was
little more than an hour ahead of him.
The prospect of again seeing the ruddy-haired mistress of Las
Palmas stirred Law more deeply than he cared to admit. Alaire
Austin had been seldom out of his thoughts since their first
meeting, for, after the fashion of men cut off from human society,
he was subject to insistent fancies. Dave had many times lived
over those incidents at the water-hole, and for the life of him he
could not credit the common stories of Alaire's coldness. To him,
at least, she had appeared very human, and after they had once
become acquainted she had been unaffected and friendly.
Since that meeting Dave had picked up considerable information
about the object of his interest, and although much of this was
palpably false, it had served to make her a still more romantic
figure in his eyes.
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