s
sky. She watched and waited while the dusk deepened. When she could
barely see objects a few yards away, she stooped over the unconscious
man and, putting out all her supple young strength, half dragged, half
carried him up the slope to a hiding place that she had chosen, in
under an overhanging ledge. There she spread pine needles and blankets
on the soft mold and lifted him upon them, so that nothing hard should
press against his wounds.

The fire had burned low. It was a full hundred yards away from the
hiding place. She went to replenish it and take a hasty look down at
that outstretched form in the depths. But soon she stole back to the
sleeping man under the rock, going, as she had come, by a roundabout
way in the darkness.

Night settled down close and dense over the plateau. The girl crouched
beside the sleeper, her eyes peering out into the blackness, the drawn
pistol ready in her hand. She could see only a few feet in the dim
starlight. But her ears, accustomed to the dull monotone of the
booming canyon, heard every sound--the click of the horses' hoofs, even
the munching of the nearest one, the hoot of the owls that flitted
overhead, the distant yelps and wails of coyotes.

An hour passed, two hours--a third. She crept around to replenish the
fire. When she returned she heard the baby fretting. Swiftly she
groped her way to him and carried him to the hiding place, to quiet
his outcry. He sucked in a little of the beaten egg and cream that she
had ready for Ashton. It satisfied his hunger, and he fell asleep,
clasped against her soft warm bosom. She crouched down with him in her
lap, her right hand again clasped on the pistol hilt, ready for the
expected attack.

She waited as before, silent, motionless, every sense alert. Another
hour dragged by, and another. Midnight passed. Suddenly, on the ridge
slope above her, one of the horses snorted and plunged. She raised the
pistol. The horse became quiet. But something came gliding around the
rocks, a low form vaguely outlined in the darkness. It might have been
a creeping man. It turned towards the hiding place. The girl found
herself looking into a pair of glaring eyes. She thrust out the
pistol, with her forefinger pointing along the barrel. The darkness
was too deep for her to aim by the sights.

Before she could press the trigger, the beast bounded away, with a
snarl far deeper, far more ferocious than any coyote could have
uttered. The girl did not f