In the space between a horseman was galloping fiercely to the west.

It was not Billinger.

With a quick movement Philip slipped the girl to the ground, and when she sprang a step back, looking up at him in white terror, he had whipped out one of his big service revolvers.
"There's a little lake over there among those trees," he said.

"Wait there--until I come back!" He raced down the slope--not to cut off the flying horseman--but toward the clump of poplars.

It was Billinger he was thinking of now.