Neither of the girls had been awakened.
"I missed one of the colts," went on Dale, "an' I'm goin' to ride across the park."
Dale's movements were quick and stern. It was significant that he chose his heavier rifle, and, mounting, with a sharp call to Pedro, he rode off without another word to the girls.
Bo watched him for a moment and then began to saddle the mustang.
"You won't follow him?" asked Helen, quickly.
"I sure will," replied Bo. "He didn't forbid it."
"But he certainly did not want us."
"He might not want you, but I'll bet he wouldn't object to me, whatever's up," said Bo, shortly.
"Oh! So you think--" exclaimed Helen, keenly hurt. She bit her tongue to keep back a hot reply. And it was certain that a bursting gush of anger flooded over her. Was she, then, such a coward? Did Dale think this slip of a sister, so wild and wilful, was a stronger woman than she? A moment's silent strife convinced her that no doubt he thought so and no doubt he was right. Then the anger centered upon herself, and Helen neither understood nor trusted herself.
The outcome proved an uncontrollable impulse. Helen began to saddle her horse. She had the task half accomplished when Bo's call made her look up.
"Listen!"
Helen heard a ringing, wild bay of the hound.
"That's Pedro," she said, with a thrill.
"Sure. He's running. We never heard him bay like that before."
"Where's Dale?"
"He rode out of sight across there," replied Bo, pointing. "And Pedro's running toward us along that slope. He must be a mile--two miles from Dale."
"But Dale will follow."
"Sure. But he'd need wings to get near that hound now. Pedro couldn't have gone across there with him... just listen."
The wild note of the hound manifestly stirred Bo to irrepressible action. Snatching up Dale's lighter rifle, she shoved it into her saddle-sheath, and, leaping on the mustang, she ran him over brush and brook, straight down the park toward the place Pedro was climbing. For an instant Helen stood amazed beyond speech. When Bo sailed over a big log, like a steeple-chaser, then Helen answered to further unconsidered impulse by frantically getting her saddle fastened. Without coat or hat she mounted. The nervous horse bolted almost before she got into the saddle. A strange, trenchant trembling coursed through all her veins. She wanted to scream for Bo to wait. Bo was out of sight, but the deep, muddy tracks in wet places and the path through the long grass afforded Helen an easy trail to follow. In fact, her horse needed no guiding. He ran in and out of the straggling spruces along the edge of the park, and suddenly wheeled around a corner of trees to come upon the gray mustang standing still. Bo was looking up and listening.