"
"Then begin," said Virginia, "by telling me where we are going."
He swung up his arm, pointing.
"Yonder. To the mountains. We'll reach them in about two hours and a
half. Then, in another two hours or so, we'll come to where Brocky is.
Way up on the flank of Mt. Temple. It's going to be a long, hard
climb. For you, at the end of a tiresome day. . . ."
"How about yourself?" she asked quickly, and he knew that she was
smiling at him through the dark. "Unless you're made of iron I'm
almost inclined to believe that after your friend Brocky I'll have
another patient. Who is he, by the way?"
"Brocky Lane? I was going to tell you. You saw something stirring in
the patio at Engle's? I had seen it first; it was Ignacio who had
slipped in under the wide arch from the gardens at the rear of the
house. He had been sent for me by Tom Cutter, my deputy. Brocky Lane
is foreman of a big cattle-ranch lying just beyond the mountains; he is
also working with me and with Cutter, although until I've told you
nobody knows it but ourselves and John Engle. . . . Before the night
is out you'll know rather a good deal about what is going on, Miss
Page," he added thoughtfully.
"More than you'd have been willing for me to know if circumstance
hadn't forced your hand?"
"Yes," he admitted coolly.
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