s out of the power
of Jack Dudley to do anything for his friend. He might tramp back and
forth for nights and days, but with no success, for Fred Greenwood was
gone--whither?

Had Jack been skilled in woodcraft, possibly he might have discovered
some signs along the valley that would have enlightened him, but he was
untrained in the ways of red men and was not equal to the task. A dog
that knew how to track a person would have been of immeasurable value,
but such a canine was not to be had.

One memory clung tormentingly to the searcher. It was the demoniac face
of Motoza, the Sioux, when Fred Greenwood compelled him to return the
Winchester of Jack. There could be but one interpretation of that
expression, and it boded the worst for the missing youth.

"Motoza feels no affection for me, but his hatred of Fred is so intense
that he is bent on revenging himself; yet I did not think he would
strike so soon."

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Jack was fully two miles from
camp. If he wished to reach their rendezvous before night he had no time
to waste. The problem was now in the shape that Hank Hazletine's help
was indispensable. If anyone could assist Fred Greenwood, the guide was
the man.

"He promised to meet us this evening, and if I wait I shall lose my
way."

Accordingly the lad faced in the direction of the plateau and pressed
forward with energy. In his haste he kept the former landmarks in view,
and his previous experience had given him a certain familiarity with the
region which prevented his going astray. Once more he leaped the canyon,
without pausing longer than to glance into its depths as he swung over
it. He saw nothing of the bulky carcass of the grizzly bear that had
fallen a victim to the marksmanship of himself and friend, and just as
night was shutting in he reached the edge of the small plateau where the
ponies were contentedly grazing.

In one respect better fortune than he anticipated awaited him. Instead
of being compelled to pass the intolerable hours in waiting for the
coming of the guide, he saw he had already reached the spot. A fire was
burning at the mouth of the cavern, and the sinewy figure of the veteran
was observed as he moved to and fro before it. Detecting the approach of
Jack, he stood erect and silently watched him as he drew near.

A person as agitated as Jack Dudley finds it hard to conceal his
feelings. Something in the action and the expression of his white fa