ave killed himself?"

"Where?" said the man. "Haven't we searched every hole and corner of
the place? He couldn't have hidden his own body."

The only evidence that some mishap had befallen David was Daddy John's,
who, on the afternoon of the day of the disappearance had heard a cry,
a single sound, long and wild. It had seemed to come from the crest of
the rock, and the old man had listened and hearing no more had thought
it the yell of some animal far on the mountains. This gave color to
Courant's theory that the lost man had been seized by the Diggers.
Borne away along the summit of the ridge he would have shouted to them
and in that dry air the sound would have carried far. He could have
been overpowered without difficulty, weakened by illness and carrying
no arms.

They spent the morning in a fruitless search and in the afternoon
Courant insisted on the train moving on. They cached provisions by the
spring and scratched an arrow on the rock pointing their way, and
underneath it the first letters of their names. It was useless, the
leader said, to leave anything in the form of a letter. As soon as
their dust was moving on the trail the Diggers would sweep down on the
camp and carry away every scrap of rag and bone that was there. This
was why he overrode Susan's plea to leave David's horse. Why present
to the Indians a horse when they had only sufficient for themselves?
She wrung her hands at the grewsome picture of David escaping and
stealing back to find a deserted camp. But Courant was inexorable and
the catching-up went forward with grim speed.

She and the old man were dumb with depression as the train rolled out.
To them the desertion seemed an act of appalling heartlessness. But
the mountain man had overcome Daddy John's scruples by a picture of
their own fate if they delayed and were caught in the early snows of
the Sierras. The girl could do nothing but trust in the word that was
already law to her. He rode beside her murmuring reassurances and
watching her pale profile. Her head hung low on her breast, her hat
casting a slant of shadow to her chin. Her eyes looked gloomily
forward, sometimes as his words touched a latent chord of hope, turning
quickly upon him and enveloping him in a look of pathetic trust.

At the evening halt she ate nothing, sitting in a muse against the
wagon wheel. Presently she put her plate down and, mounting on the
axle, scanned the way they had come. She cou