lt the cold animosity of Mother Douglas, the wild, impotent hate
of old Scotty mouthing threats and accusations and vague prophecies of
future disaster to the Lorrigans. He rode slowly out through the gate
and took the trail made by the Devil's Tooth team when they hauled
down the materials for the schoolhouse. The chunky roan climbed
briskly, contentedly rolling the cricket in his bit. The little
burring sound of it fitted itself somehow to the thought reiterating
through Lance's tired brain. "She wouldn't want me--to come. She
wouldn't--want me--to come."

The roan squatted and ducked sidewise, and Lance raised his head. Down
the rough trail rode a big cowpuncher with sun-reddened face and an
air of great weariness. His horse plodded wearily, thin-flanked, his
black hair sweat-roughened and dingy. The rider looked at Lance with
red-veined eyes, the inflamed lids showing sleepless nights.

"How'r yuh?" he greeted perfunctorily, as they passed each other.

"Howdy," said Lance imperturbably, and rode on.

Lance's eyebrows pulled together. He had no need of looking back; he
had seen a great deal in the one glance he had given the stranger. He
scrutinized the trail, measured with his eyes the size and the shape
of the horse's footprints.

After a little he left the wagon road and put the roan to the steep
climb up the trail to the great Tooth of the ridge. He still frowned,
still rode with bent head, his eyes on the trail. But now he was
alert, conscious of his surroundings, thinking of every yard of ground
they covered.

At a little distance from the base of the Tooth he dismounted, tying
the restive roan to a bush to prevent him from wandering around,
nibbling investigatingly at weeds, bushes, all the things that
interest a young horse.

Slowly, walking carefully on rocks, Lance approached the Tooth. A new
look was in his face now,--a look half tender, half angry because of
the tenderness. Several times he had met Mary Hope here at the Tooth,
when he was just a long-legged youth with a fondness for teasing, and
she was a slim, wide-eyed little thing in short skirts and sunbonnet.
Always the meetings had pretended to be accidental, and always Mary
Hope had seemed very much interested in the magnificent outlook and
very slightly interested in him.

From the signs, some one else was much interested in the view. Lance
came upon a place where a man had slipped with one foot and left the
deep mark of his boot in the