us
like he thought we was crazy. I don't know as I had missed a drunk
before for five year, when the materials was ready-found for its
making. And I ain't never forgot the little kid with the brown hair
and the eyes that seen to your bottom layer, like a water-witch
a-penetrating the ground with a glance, seeing through dirt and clay
and rocks to what water they is."

Mizzoo relapsed into meditative silence, and the young man, in sympathy
with his mood, kept at his side, no longer asking questions. Darkness
came on and the hour grew late but few words were exchanged as they
rode the weary miles that marked the limit of the range. There were
the usual incidents of such work, each bringing its customary comments.
The midnight luncheon beside a small fire, over which the coffee
steamed, roused something like cheerful conversation which, however,
flickered and flared uncertainly like the bonfire. On the whole the
young man was unwontedly reserved, and the other, perceiving it, fell
back contentedly on his own resources--pleasant memories and rank
tobacco.

"Guess I'll leave you now," remarked the young man, when the fire had
died away.

"Yes, better turn in, for you're most uncommon dull you know," Mizzoo
replied frankly. "'Twould be just about as much company for me if
you'd hike out and leave me your picture to carry along."

Instead of taking the direction toward the river, the young man set out
at a gallop for the distant mountain range which, in the gloom, seemed
not far away. After an hour's hard riding, he reached it. His
impatience bad made that hour seem almost interminable, yet it had not
been long enough to furnish him with any clear reason for having come.
If, as Mizzoo had declared, he needed sleep, he would surely not think
of finding it near the cove from which his companions had been warned
under penalty of death. If drawn by longing for another glimpse of the
girl of the cove he could not expect to see her an hour or two after
midnight. Yet here he was, attracted, and still urged on, by impulses
he did not attempt to resist.

CHAPTER X

THE FLAG OF TRUCE

Earliest dawn found the young man seated composedly upon one of the
flattened outcroppings of the bill of stone that lay like an island
between the outer plain and the sheltered cove. As yet, there was no
sign of life within the cove--both the dugout and the cabin of cedar
logs were as silent and as void of movement as the rocks be