Roaring Bill stopped, and she rode Silk up past the pack horses.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.
"Why, I'm taking you home--or trying to," he answered mildly.
"But you're going _north_," she declared. "You've been going north all
morning. I was north of Cariboo Meadows when I got lost. How can we
get back to Cariboo Meadows by going still farther north?"
"You're more of a woodsman than I imagined," Bill remarked gently. He
smiled up at her, and drew out his pipe and tobacco pouch.
She looked at him for a minute. "Do you know where we are now?" she
asked quietly.
He met her keen gaze calmly. "I do," he made laconic answer.
"Which way is Cariboo Meadows, then, and how far is it?" she demanded.
"General direction south," he replied slowly. "Fifty miles more or
less. Rather more than less."
"And you've been leading me straight north!" she cried. "Oh, what am I
going to do?"
"Keep right on going," Wagstaff answered.
"I won't--I won't!" she flashed. "I'll find my own way back. What
devilish impulse prompted you to do such a thing?"
"You'll have a beautiful time of it," he said dryly, completely
ignoring her last question. "Take you three days to walk there--if you
knew every foot of the way.
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