e professed to be
weary yet from the last days of school--to have a headache--and so she
went early to her room and asked that the servants keep the house quiet
in the morning, that she might sleep late and get really rested. Her
father kissed her tenderly and thought what a dear child she was and
what a comfort to his ripening years; and the house settled down into
quiet.

Rosa packed a bag with some of her most elaborate garments, arrayed
herself in a charming little outfit of silk for the journey, dropped her
baggage out of the window; and when the moon rose and the household were
quietly sleeping she paid a visit to her father's safe, and then stole
forth, taking her shadowy way to the trail by a winding route known well
to herself and secure from the watch of vigilant servants who were ever
on the lookout for cattle thieves.

Thus she left her father's house and went forth to put her trust in a
man whose promises were as ropes of sand and whose fancy was like a wave
of the sea, tossed to and fro by every breath that blew. Long ere the
sun rose the next morning the guarded, beloved child was as far from her
safe home and her father's sheltering love as if alone she had started
for the mouth of the bottomless pit. Two days later, while Margaret lay
unconscious beneath the sage-brush, with a hovering eagle for watch,
Rosa in the streets of a great city suddenly realized that she was more
alone in the universe than ever she could have been in a wide desert,
and her plight was far worse than the girl's with whose fate she had so
lightly played.

Quite early on the morning after Rosa left, while the household was
still keeping quiet for the supposed sleeper, Gardley rode into the
inclosure about the house and asked for Rogers.

Gardley had been traveling night and day to get back. Matters had
suddenly arranged themselves so that he could finish up his business at
his old home and go on to see Margaret's father and mother, and he had
made his visit there and hurried back to Arizona, hoping to reach
Ashland in time for Commencement. A delay on account of a washout on the
road had brought him back two days late for Commencement. He had ridden
to camp from a junction forty miles away to get there the sooner, and
this morning had ridden straight to the Tanners' to surprise Margaret.
It was, therefore, a deep disappointment to find her gone and only Mrs.
Tanner's voluble explanations for comfort. Mrs. Tanner exhausted her