eened by some boxes
of provisions and a couple of sacks of flour. His jaw was clamped tight.
He looked into the deep velvet sky without seeing. For a long time he
did not move. Then, noiselessly, he sat up, glanced around carefully to
make sure he was not observed, rose, and stole into the darkness,
carrying with him his saddle and bridle.

One of his ponies was hobbled in the mesquite. Swiftly he saddled.
Leading the animal very carefully so as to avoid rustling the brush, he
zigzagged from the camp until he had reached a safe distance. Here he
swung himself on and rode into the blur of night, at first cautiously,
but later with swift-pounding hoofs. He went toward the northwest in a
bee line without hesitation or doubt. Only when the lie of the ground
forced a detour did he vary his direction.

So for hours he travelled until he reached a canon in which squatted a
little log cabin. He let his voice out in the howl of a coyote before he
dismounted. No answer came, save the echo from the cliff opposite. Again
that mournful call sounded, and this time from the cabin found an
answer.

A man came sleepily to the door and peered out. "Hello! That you,
Brill?"

Healy swung off, trailed his rein, and followed the man into the cabin.
"Don't light up, Tom. No need."

For ten minutes they talked in low tones. Healy emerged from the cabin,
remounted, and rode back to the cow camp. He reached it just as the
first, faint streaks of gray tinged the eastern sky.

Silently he unsaddled, hobbled his pony, and carried his saddle back to
the place where he had been lying. Once more he lay down, glanced
cautiously round to see all was quiet, and fell asleep as soon as his
head touched the saddle.

CHAPTER XXIV

MISSING

From all over the Malpais country, from the water-sheds where Bear and
Elk and Cow creeks head, from the halfway house far out in the desert
where the stage changes horses, men and women dribbled to the Frying Pan
for the big dance after the round-up. Great were the preparations. Many
cakes and pies and piles of sandwiches had been made ready. Also there
was a wash boiler full of coffee and a galvanized tub brimming with
lemonade. For the Frying Pan was doing itself proud.

Phil and his sister drove over together. The boy had asked Bess to go
with him, but Cuffs had beaten him to it. The distance was only
twenty-five miles, a neighborly stroll in that country of wide spaces
and desert stretches filled