as a wonderful scene disclosed. Far as the eye could reach the
great hollow extended. Deep and narrow; deep in the heart of the hills
which towered upon either side to heights, for the most part,
inaccessible, precipitous. It was a wondrous gulch, hidden and
unsuspected in the foothills, and protected by those amazing wilds, in
which the ignorant or unwary must infallibly be lost. It was a perfect
pasture, a perfect hiding-place, watered by a broad running stream;
sheltered from all cold and storm. No wonder then that the celebrated
outlaw, Peter Retief, had chosen it for his haunt and the harborage of
his ill-gotten stock.

With characteristic method the two set about "roping" the magnificent
crested horse they had come to capture. They soon found that he was
wild--timid as a hare. Their task looked as though it would be one of
some difficulty.

At first Golden Eagle raced recklessly from point to point. And so long
as this lasted his would-be captors could do little but endeavor to
"head" him from one to the other, in the hope of getting him within
range of the rope. Then he seemed suddenly to change his mind, and, with
a quick double, gallop towards the side of the great chasm. A cry of
delight escaped the girl as she saw this. The horse was making for the
mouth of a small cavern which had been boarded over, and, judging by the
door and window in the woodwork, had evidently been used as a dwelling
or a stable. It was the same instinct which led him to this place that
had caused the horse to remain for two years the solitary tenant of the
valley. The girl understood, and drew her companion's attention. The
capture at once became easy. Keeping clear of the cave they cautiously
herded their quarry towards it. Golden Eagle was docile enough until he
reached the, to him, familiar door. Then, when he found that his
pursuers still continued to press in upon him, he took alarm, and,
throwing up his head, with a wild, defiant snort he made a bolt for the
open.

Instantly two lariats whirled through the air towards the crested neck.
One missed its mark, but the other fell, true as a gun-shot over the
small, thoroughbred head. It was Jacky's rope which had found its mark.
A hitch round the horn of her saddle, and her horse threw himself back
with her forefeet braced, and faced the captive. Then the rope tightened
with a jerk which taxed its rawhide strands to their utmost. Instantly
Golden Eagle, after two years' freedom, st