cause you've never seen him ride. I consider it a good day's work to start out with him and keep within sight till night, but as for following and overtaking him—ha, ha, ha, ha!"
He laughed heartily at the thought.
And she smiled a little sadly, answering: "But I have the most boundless patience in the world. He may gallop all the way, but I will walk, and keep on walking, and reach him in the end. I am not very strong, but—"
Her hands moved out as though testing their power, gripping at the air.
"Where will you go to hunt for him?"
"I don't know. But every evening, when I look out at the sunset hills, with the purple along the valleys, I think that he must be out there somewhere, going toward the highest ranges. If I were up in that country I know that I could find him."
"Never in a thousand years."
"Why?"
"Because he's on the trail—"
"On the trail?"
"Of McGurk."
She started.
What is this man McGurk? I hear of him on all sides. If one of the men rides a bucking horse successfully, some one is sure to say: 'Who taught you what you know, Bud—McGurk?' And then the rest laugh. The other day a man was pointed out to me as an expert shot. 'Not as fast as McGurk,' it was said, 'but he shoots just as straight.' Finally I asked some one about McGurk. The only answer
