the ranch and had left
her bag under a bush beside the road. It should not be difficult to find
it, if he followed the road and watched closely the bushes on either
side.

Until he reached the place where he had first sighted her, Lone rode
swiftly, anxious to be through with the business and go his way. But
when he came upon her footprints again, he pulled up and held John Doe
to a walk, scanning each bush and boulder as he passed.

It seemed probable that she had left the grip at Rock City where she
must have spent the night. She had spoken of being deceived into
thinking the place was the Sawtooth ranch until she had come into it and
found it "just rocks." Then, he reasoned, the storm had broken, and her
fright had held her there. When daylight came she had either forgotten
the bag or had left it deliberately.

At Rock City, then, Lone stopped to examine the base of every rock, even
riding around those nearest the road. The girl, he guessed shrewdly, had
not wandered off the main highway, else she would not have been able to
find it again. Rock City was confusing unless one was perfectly familiar
with its curious, winding lanes.

It was when he was riding slowly around the boulder marked "Palace
Hotel, Rates Reasnible," that he came upon the place where a horse had
stood, on the side best sheltered from the storm. Deep hoof marks
closely overlapping, an over-turned stone here and there gave proof
enough, and the rain-beaten soil that blurred the hoofprints farthest
from the rock told him more. Lone backed away, dismounted, and, stepping
carefully, went close. He could see no reason why a horse should have
stood there with his head toward the road ten feet away, unless his
rider was waiting for something--or some one. There were other boulders
near which offered more shelter from rain.

Next the rock he discovered a boot track, evidently made when the rider
dismounted. He thought of the wild statement of the girl about seeing
some one shoot a man and wondered briefly if there could be a basis of
truth in what she said. But the road showed no sign of a struggle,
though there were, here and there, hoofprints half washed out with the
rain.

Lone went back to his horse and rode on, still looking for the bag. His
search was thorough and, being a keen-eyed young man, he discovered the
place where Lorraine had crouched down by a rock. She must have stayed
there all night, for the scuffed soil was dry where her body h