The rider's gray eyes smiled pleasantly as he settled more comfortably into the saddle, peering out from beneath the stiff brim of his scouting hat; then they hardened, and the man swore softly under his breath.
The peculiar nature of this mission which he had taken upon himself had been recalled.

He was always doing something like that--permitting himself to become involved in the affairs of others.

Now why should he be here, riding alone through the dark to prevent this unknown girl from reaching Devere?
She was nothing to him--even that glimpse of her pictured face had not impressed him greatly; rather interesting, to be sure, but nothing extraordinary; besides he was not a woman's man, and, through years of isolation, had grown to avoid contact with the sex--and he was under no possible obligation to either McDonald or Travers.

Yet here he was, fully committed, drawn into the vortex, by a hasty ill-considered decision.

He was tired still from his swift journey across the desert from Fort Union, and now faced another three days' ride.