"
It was ten o'clock when the two men arrived at the Morton ranch.
"We don't want to start any excitement," said the officer, as they drew
rein at the corral gate. "You stay here and I'll drop in--casual like."
It seemed to Aaron King, waiting in the darkness, that his companion was
gone for hours. In reality, it was only a few minutes until the Ranger
returned. He was walking quickly, and, springing into the saddle he
started the chestnut off at a sharp lope.
"The baby is better," he said. "Doctor was here this afternoon--started
home about two o'clock. That 'auto' must have gone on up the canyon.
Morton knew nothing of the man on horseback who went down. We'll cut
across to Carleton's."
Presently, the Ranger swung the chestnut aside from the wagon road, to
follow a narrow trail through the chaparral. To the artist, the little
path in the darkness was invisible, but he gave his horse the rein and
followed the shadowy form ahead. Three-quarters of an hour later, they
came out into the main road, again; near the Carleton ranch corral, a mile
and a half below the old camp in the sycamores behind the orchard of the
deserted place.
It was now eleven o'clock and the ranch-house was dark.
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