"I had to roll down the hill to dodge 'em," chuckled Scott, as he caught
the mare and helped the girl to mount her. "I'll tell you about it after a
while; just now I think we'd better be on our way."

They rode on in silence, back over the trail and around the curve past the
imitation cave which had sheltered Polly. Scott eyed the horses with
inward pessimism.

"They're never going to make it," he thought. "They're about all in now.
Wish I knew whether to camp out and go on in the morning or to keep on
pushing. If I was alone I'd bed down for the night but I hate to ask her
to spend a night in the open unless I have to. Well, we'll go on a
while."

They rode on, the tired horses going more and more slowly and responding
less and less readily to urging. The trail did not go all the way down
into the canyon, but met a rocky ledge which crossed it like a natural
bridge. It was narrow and it was slippery with loose stones, but the girl
took it silently. She was too tired and hungry to be afraid. The two
sandwiches seemed things belonging to another life. She tried to smile
when Scott looked back at her but it was hard work.

They came off the ledge onto the side of a hill which formed a part of the
second range of mountains. The spot, green as a deer park, was directly on
the side of the hill, about half-way up. Around it were trees--pines and
live oaks. The trail seemed to have disappeared altogether. Scott had
dismounted and was waiting for the girl to come up.

"What's the matter?" she demanded, anxiously.

He dropped his horse's bridle and came to her side. "I've a question for
you, best girl," he said, his hand on the pommel of her saddle, "These
horses are hardly fit to climb this next range. They might do it and make
the rest of the trip to-day if we urged them but it ain't a square deal.
Then, too, it would be dark before we got there.

"This is a place where we could stay. There's pasture for the horses and I
think that little stream that I found down in the canyon starts from up
here somewhere. If we go on we may make it and again we may get tangled up
in the mountains after dark, which I don't fancy. I'm no forest ranger,
you know. Shall we stay here till three or four o'clock in the morning or
shall we plug ahead? It's up to you."

Polly turned an appalled face toward him. "But, Marc, you don't mean to
stay here--in this place--all night?" she said, faintly.

"Well, it won't be exactly all night. It