away by the hair of the head!'

He shook her hand off and strode forward impatiently. Again and again
he shouted 'Hello!' and 'Ho, there! Ho, I say!' There came no answer.
The bacon was growing cold; the fire burning down. He turned a
perplexed face towards Helen's eager one.

'It is odd,' he said irritably. He was not a man to relish being
baffled.

Helen had picked up something which she had found near the spring, and
was studying it intently. He came to her side to see what it was. The
thing was a freshly-peeled willow wand, left upright where one end had
been thrust down into the soft earth. The other end had been split;
into the cleft was thrust a single feather from a bluebird's wing.

Helen's eyes looked unusually large and bright. She turned her head,
glancing over her shoulder.

'Some one was here just a minute ago,' she cried softly. 'He was
camping for the night. Something frightened him away. It might have
been the noise we made. Or--what do you think, papa?'

'I never attempt to solve a problem until the necessary data are given
me,' he announced academically.

'Or,' went on Helen, at whose age one does not bother about such
trifles as necessary data, 'he may not have run away at all. He may be
hiding in the bushes, listening to us. There are all kinds of people
in the desert. Don't you remember how the sheriff came to San Juan
just before we left? He was looking for a man who had killed a miner
for his gold dust.'

'You must curb a proclivity for such fanciful trash.' He cleared his
throat for the utterance. He put out his hand and Helen hastily
slipped her own into it. Silently they returned to their own camp
site, the girl carrying in her free hand the wand tipped with the
bluebird feather. Several times they paused and looked back. There
was nothing but the glow of the dwindling fire and the sweep of sand,
covered sparsely with ragged bushes. New stars flared out; the spirit
of the night descended upon the desert. As the world seemed to draw
further and further away from them, these two beings, strange to the
vastness engulfing them, huddled closer together. They spoke little,
always in lowered voices. Between words they were listening, awaiting
that which did not come.

Chapter II

Superstition Pool

Physically tired as they were, the night was a restless one for both
Helen and her father. They ate their meal in silence for the most
part, made their beds