The dog answered with another growl, while the hair on his neck bristled
in anger.
"Some one we don't like, heh!" commented the novelist. "Or"--he added as
if musing upon the animal's instinct--"some one we ought not to like."
A bark from Czar greeted James Rutlidge who at that moment appeared at the
foot of the slope leading up to their camp.
The two men--remembering the occasion of their visitor's last call at
their home in Fairlands, when he had seen Sibyl in the studio--received
the man with courtesy, but with little warmth. Czar continued to manifest
his sentiments until rebuked by his master. The coolness of the reception,
however, in no way disconcerted James Rutlidge; who, on his part, rather
overdid his assumption of pleasure at meeting them again.
Explaining that he had come with a party of friends on a hunting trip, he
told them how he had met Brian Oakley, and so had learned of their camp
hidden behind the old orchard. The rest of his party, he said, had gone on
up the canyon. They would stop at Burnt Pine on Laurel Creek, where he
could easily join them before night. He could not think, he declared, of
passing so near without greeting his friends.
"You two certainly are expert when it comes to finding snug,
out-of-the-way quarters," he commented, searching the camp and the
immediate surroundings with a careful and, ostensibly, an appreciative
eye.
Pages:
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290