Anthony Bard." "Ah," said Drew slowly, "Anthony Bard!" "That's it," nodded Logan, and fixed a curious eye upon the big grey rider.
As if to escape from that inquiring scrutiny, Drew wheeled his horse and spurred at a sharp gallop up the hill, leaving Logan frowning behind.
"No stay over night," muttered the shepherd.

"No fooling about that damned old shack of a house; what's wrong with Drew ?" He answered himself, for all shepherds are forced by the bitter loneliness of their work to talk with themselves.

"The old boy's worried.

Damned if he isn't! I'll keep an eye on this Bard feller." And he loosened the revolver in its holster.
He might have been even more concerned had he seen the redoubled speed with which Drew galloped as soon as the hilltop was between him and Logan.

Straight on he pushed his horse, not exactly like one who fled but rather more like one too busy with consuming thoughts to pay the slightest heed to the welfare of his mount.