Moya still rode afternoons with her friends, fished occasionally, and took her regular hand at bridge. But it was unaccountably true that her zest in these amusements was gone. She could give no satisfactory reason for it, but she felt as if something had passed out of her life forever. It was as if the bubbling youth in her were quenched. The outstanding note of her had been the eagerness with which she had run out to meet new experiences. Now she found herself shrinking from them. Whenever she could the girl was glad to slip away by herself. To the charge that she was in love with this young vagabond she would have given a prompt denial. Nevertheless, Lady Farquhar recognized the symptoms as dangerous.
On the fifth day after the Gunnison trip the young people at the Lodge made a party to fish Sunbeam Creek. They followed the stream far into the hills, riding along the trail which bordered it. Kilmeny and Verinder carried lunch baskets, for they were to make a day of it and return only in time for a late dinner.
Moya made her brave pretense of gayety. With alacrity she responded to Verinder's challenge of a bet on the relative sizes of their catches. But as soon as the rest were out of sight she sat down in a shady spot and fell to musing.
How long she sat there, a sun-dappled nymph upon whom gleams of light filtered through the leaves of the aspens, she had not the least idea. The voice of a grizzled rider startled her from her dreams. Her lifted eyes took in the grim look of the man, garnished with weapons ready to his hands.
"Mornin', miss," he nodded amiably.
"Good-morning." And swift on the heels of it, "You are a deputy sheriff, are you not?"
"Rung the bell, ma'am. You belong to the English outfit, I reckon."
She smiled. "I suppose so, though I don't know what an outfit is."
"I mean to Lord What's-his-name's party."
"Yes, I think I do. I'm rather sure of it."
"Funny about some members of your crowd having the same name as the man we're looking for."
"Mr. Kilmeny, you mean?"
"Jack Kilmeny! Yes, ma'am."
"He introduced himself to us, but I don't think the name he went by was Kilmeny. I was told it was Crumbs."
"That's just a joke. His friends call him that because his people are 'way up in G. Fine bred--crumbs. Get the idea?"
"I think so."
"Came from the old country, his father did--son of some big gun over there. Likely he's some kin to your friends."