Keep your gun handy," he murmured and turned away as the others rode up, eager for whatever news Swan had to offer.
"Something killed a bird," Swan explained politely, planting one of his own big feet over the track, which did not in the least resemble Lorraine's.

"Yack! you find that jong lady quick!" From there on Swan walked carefully, putting his foot wherever a print of Al's boot was visible.

Since he was much bigger than Al, with a correspondingly longer stride, his gait puzzled Lone until he saw just what Swan was doing.

Then his eyes lightened with amused appreciation of the Swede's cunning.
"We ought to have some hot drink, or whisky, when we find that girl," Hawkins muttered unexpectedly, riding up beside Lone as they crossed an open space.

"She'll be half-dead with cold--if we find her alive." Before Lone could answer, Swan looked back at the two and raised his hand for them to stop.
"Better if you leave the horses here," he suggested.