ut tell me," declared the woman positively. "Susie no
do that."

She brought the food from the kitchen herself, and padded uneasily from
window to window while they ate.

What was in the wind, Ralston asked himself, that Susie, McArthur, and
Smith should disappear in this fashion on the same day? It was a singular
coincidence. Like her mother, Ralston had no notion that Susie was
stopping the night at any ranch or lodge below. He, too, shared the Indian
woman's misgivings.

He had finished and was reaching for his hat when footsteps were heard on
the hard-beaten dooryard. They were slow, lagging, unfamiliar to the
listeners, who looked at each other inquiringly. Then the Indian woman
threw open the door, and Susie, like the ghost of herself, staggered from
the darkness outside into the light.

No ordinary fatigue could make her look as she looked now. Every step
showed complete and utter exhaustion. Her dishevelled hair was hanging in
strands over her face, her eyes were dark-circled, she was streaked with
dust and grime, and her thin shoulders drooped wearily.

"Where you been, Susie?" her mother asked sharply.

"Teacher said," she made a pitiful attempt to laugh, to speak
lightly--"Teacher said ridin' horseback would keep you from gettin' fat.
I--I've been reducin' my hips."

"Don't you do dis no more!"

"Don't worry--I shan't!" And as if her mother's reproach was the last
straw, Susie covered her face with the crook of her elbow and cried
hysterically.

Ralston was convinced that the day had held something out of the ordinary
for Susie. He knew that it would take an extraordinary ride so completely
to exhaust a girl who was all but born in the saddle. But it was evident
from her reply that she did not mean to tell where she had been or what
she had been doing.

Although Ralston soon retired, he was awake long after his numerous
room-mates were snoring in their bunks. There was much to be done on the
morrow, yet he could not sleep. He was not able to rid himself of the
thought that there was something peculiar in the absence of Smith just at
this time, nor could he entirely abandon the belief that McArthur would
yet come straggling in, with an explanation of the whole affair. He could
not think of any that would be satisfactory, but an underlying faith in
the little scientist's honesty persisted.

Toward morning he slept, and day was breaking when a step on the door-sill
of the bunk-house awakened him. H