ke the try, anyway, and find out for himself if Jim Weston was as
desperate a character as he had been painted. He could do no more than
kill him, and he did not fear death. Had he not often faced it on the
field of battle, and why should he shrink now?

The more Reynolds thought about this, the more inclined he became to
make the effort. It would be another grand adventure to once again go
over the top. He might fail, but he would have the satisfaction of
making the attempt and showing Glen that he was not a coward. He had
been longing for some wild undertaking, and here was the opportunity
right at hand. It would be far more preferable than spending his time
around camp, or even hunting mountain sheep.

He was thinking seriously of this one beautiful afternoon as he lay on
the side of a deep ravine beneath a big weather-beaten fir tree.
Below, a brook gurgled, now very small owing to the dryness of the
season, but at times swollen by floods into a raging torrent. Across
this ravine the mountain rose steep and rugged. Along its side a
narrow trail wound, worn smooth by the feet of Indians, mountain sheep,
and other denizens of the wild. Reynolds idly wondered whither the
trail led, and he was half tempted to start forth on an exploration
journey. But it was so comfortable there on the hillside that he gave
up the idea, so, lying full upon his back with his hands under his
head, he watched the tops of the far-off mountains, and the clouds
drifting across the great savannas of the blue.

For some time he remained thus, thinking of Glen and recalling the last
time he had seen her. He was trying once more to solve the mystery of
her disappearance from Whitehorse, when a sudden noise across the
ravine arrested his attention. Casting his eyes in that direction,
great was his surprise to see a woman mounted on a magnificent horse
riding slowly down that crooked and dangerous trail. Then his heart
leaped within him as he recognized Glen. What was he to do? he
intuitively asked himself. Should he remain where he was, or hurry
down to the brook to meet her? But what right had he to go near her?
He had never spoken a word to her, and as she did not even know who he
was, she might resent his appearance. Would it not be better for him
to remain where he was, and worship at a distance? But was it
gentlemanly that he should stay there and watch her when she was
unaware of his presence?

And all this time Glen wa