as got me, that's all."

He tightened his lash ropes viciously, mounted his horse and took the
lead, followed by Old Walker and the other mules, packed; and when he
whistled for Good Luck, to Billy's surprise the little terrier went
bounding off after him. She waved at him furtively and tried to toll him
back, but his devotion to his master was still just as strong as it had
been when he had adopted him in Los Angeles. When he had been prostrated
by the heat he had stayed with Billy gladly, but now that he was strong
and accustomed to the climate he raced along after the mules. Wunpost
looked back and grinned, then he reached down a hand and swooped his dog
up into the saddle.

"You can't steal him!" he hooted, and Billy bit her lip, for she thought
she had weaned him from his master. And Wunpost--she had thought he was
tamed to her hand, but he too had gone off and left her. He was still as
wild and ruthless as on the day they had first met, when he had been
chasing Dusty Rhodes with a stone; and now he was heading off into the
high places he was so fond of, to play hide-and-seek with his pursuers.
Several had come up already, ostensibly to view the ruin but undoubtedly
to keep Wunpost in sight; and if he continued his lawless strife she
doubted if the good Lord would preserve him, as He had from the
cloudburst.

Time and again he had mounted to go and each time she had held him back,
for she had sensed some imminent disaster; and now, as he rode off, she
felt the prompting again to run after him and call him back. But he
would not come back, he was headstrong and unrepentant, making light of
what others held sacred; and as she watched him out of sight something
told her again that he was going out to meet his doom. Some great
punishment was hanging over him, to chastise him for his sins and bring
him, perhaps, to repentance; but she could no more stop his going, or
turn him aside from his purpose, than she could control the rush of a
cloudburst. He was like a force of nature--a rude, fighting creature who
beat down opposition as the flood struck down bushes, rushing on to seek
new worlds to conquer.

CHAPTER XVIII

A LESSON

The heat-wave, which had made even the desert-dwellers pant, came to an
end with the Jail Canyon waterspout; the nights became bearable, the
rocks cooled off and the sun ceased to strike through men's clothes. But
there was one, still clinging to her faded bib-overalls, who took no