of
the tent and sank down on his knees to set a trayful of food beside
the occupant. He hissed a pleasant, "Good morning, Mistah Lafe!" and
was gone before Ashton could reply. The aroma of hot coffee and the
savory smell of chicken broth forced Ashton to forget all else than
that he was famished. Besides the coffee and broth, there was a nogg
of eggs and thick cream slightly flavored with whiskey. He drank one
liquid after the other with the greediness of a starving man; nor did
he stop until he had drained the last drop of all three. He could have
followed with a hearty meal of solids, but the fluids were enough to
stimulate him to renewed energy.

He crept out of his tent and looked around. Up where they had carried
Blake from the precipices stood a larger tent. Near it, under a
low-growing pine, the surgeon lay rolled in a blanket, fast asleep.
Some distance away, in the other direction, Yuki and two of the ranch
hands were building a stone fireplace. Beyond them were picketed three
horses, the nearest of which was Rocket.

Ashton stood up and started rapidly towards the big rawboned horse.
Within a few yards, however, his pace slackened. He faltered and
stopped to look back at the larger tent. After a pause, he turned
about and slowly approached the tent.

As he drew near he heard a murmur of voices barely distinguishable
above the booming of the canyon. Again he faltered and stopped and
stood hesitating. The open front of the tent faced at right angles to
his line of approach. As he hesitated, he saw Isobel's head appear,
veiled in the loose meshes of her chestnut hair. She looked about
towards him, and drew back with a startled little cry.

He turned away to go to Rocket. A quick heavy step sounded behind him.
Knowles had sprung out of the tent and was striding to overtake the
retreating man.

"Hold on, Lafe," he ordered. "Where you going?"

Ashton faced him with quiet resolution. His eyes were dark with
misery, but his once lax mouth was strangely like Blake's in its firm
full lines.

"There's only one thing for me to do, Mr. Knowles," he replied. "I am
going away. Your daughter will understand why."

"How're you going?" asked the cowman, his face impassive.

"I traded with Miss--Miss Knowles for Rocket. Didn't she ever tell
you?"

"Don't matter if she did. Rocket wasn't her hawss to trade."

"Then, unless my pony is up here, I shall walk down as far as the
ranch," said Ashton. He added with bitte