"Nothing, of course, Señor," he replied. 

 But Rhoda was not daunted. 

 "Who were they?" she repeated.  "What did they say? Where did they go?" 

 The herder glanced at Rhoda and shook his head. 

 "Quién sabe?" 

 Rhoda turned to Kut-le in anger. 

 "Don't be more brutal than you have to be!" she cried.  "What harm can it do for this man to give me word of my friends?" 

 Kut-le's eyes softened. 

 "Answer the señorita's questions, amigo," he said. 

 The Mexican began eagerly. 

 "There were three. They rode up the trail one day ago. They called the dark man Porter, the big blue-eyed one DeWitt, and the yellow-haired one Newman." 

 Rhoda clasped her hands with a little murmur of relief. 

 "The blue-eyed one acted as if locoed. They cursed much at a name, Kut-le. But otherwise they talked little. They went that way," pointing back over the trail.  "They had found a scarf with a stone tied in it—" 

 "What's that?" interrupted Kut-le sharply. 

 Rhoda's eyes shone in the firelight. 

 "'Not an overturned pebble escapes his eye,'" she said serenely. 

 "Bully for you!" exclaimed Kut-le, smiling at Rhoda in understanding. "However, I guess we will move on, having gleaned this interesting news!" 

 He remounted his little party. Rhoda reeled a little but she made no protest. As they took to the trail again the sheep-herder stood by the fire, watching, and Rhoda called to him: 

 "If you see them again tell them that I'm all right but that they must hurry!" 

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