In answer to his demand who was there came another torrent of profanity.
It was one of his comrades of the day before. He explained that he and two
others had come up to pay a visit to the pretty girl. They had had a wager
as to who could win her, and they had come to try; but she was not here.
The door was fastened. They had forced it. There was no sign of her about.
The other two had gone down to the place where her brother was buried to
see whether she was there. Women were known to be sentimental. She might
be that kind. He had agreed to wait here, but he was getting uneasy.
Perhaps, if the other two found her, they might not be fair.
The last comer with a mighty oath explained that the girl belonged to him,
and that no one had a right to her. He demanded that the other come with
him to the grave, and see what had become of the girl; and then they would
all go and drink together--but the girl belonged to him.
They rode to the place of the graves, and met the two others returning;
but there was no sign of the girl, and the three taunted the one, saying
that the girl had given him the slip. Amid much argument as to whose she
was and where she was, they rode on cursing through God's beauty. They
passed the bottle continually, that their nerves might be the steadier;
and, when they came to the deserted cabin once more, they paused and
discussed what to do.
At last it was agreed that they should start on a quest after her, and
with oaths, and coarse jests, and drinking, they started down the trail of
which the girl had gone in search by her roundabout way.