slant along the ridge side, until they came up into
the mouth of a small canon. Between the bald ledges of the dry channel
were bars of sand and gravel. Lennon pointed to the hoofprints of a
horse that had come down the canon at a gallop.

"This must be the trail of our renegade," he said.

Carmena paused to fix him with a somber gaze.

"The whole bunch of bronchos may be up here, but it's the only way into
the Basin; and, once in, they may get behind us. Now's your chance to
quit--your last chance."

This time Lennon was ready for her.

"Lead on, Miss Macduff, and--perhaps you know the rest of the
quotation."

"Yes," gloomily retorted the girl. "Don't blame me if we meet up with
those broncs. The joke will be on you."

"How about your safety? Wouldn't you have a better chance if mounted?"

"Want to back out, do you?"

"By no means. My idea is to dump the pack from your pony. Then, if we
are attacked, I may be able to hold the renegades while you gallop off."

The girl's rich colour deepened into a flush. The thick fringe of her
lashes swept down to hide the glow in her eyes. Without a word she swung
ahead, on up the canon. Though not a little puzzled over her abruptness,
Lennon felt certain that she had been far from displeased by his
matter-of-fact suggestion.

He had no chance to urge the desirability of his plan. At his first
rather loud-spoken remonstrance Carmena flung back at him a curt gesture
for silence and led on at a quickened pace. Her swift ascent slackened
only at the twists of the narrowing canon; at these she would swing in
close to the inner side of the bends and creep around, with her rifle
half raised.

By mid-morning the bed of the canon had become much rougher and steeper.
The pony, for all his goat-like agility and sure-footedness, found
difficulty in scrambling up some of the ledges.

Neither the rapid pace nor the climbing bothered Lennon. But between the
burning heat and his very natural excitement over Carmena's stealthy
bearing at the turns, he became keyed to rather a high pitch.

After a last sharp turn, the canon broadened and flared out in a
trough-like valley at the top of a high, cedar-clad, ridge-rimmed mesa.

"Wait!" Lennon exclaimed. "Look ahead, Miss Farley--all bare and open!
Not a bit of shelter until we cross to the trees!"

The girl faced about, her red lips twisted in a smile of contempt, but
her eyes clouded with disappointment.

"I told you, down at the