ange, caught sight
of the three horsemen, and so, kept on. It was after ten when at last
they overtook the leaders, and then, to their consternation, Angela
Wren was not with them. They had neither seen nor heard of her, and
Byrne was aghast when told that, alone and without a guide, she had
ridden in among the foothills of those desolate, pathless mountains.
"The girl is mad," said he, "and yet it's like her to seek to reach
her father."

Instantly they divided forces to search for her. Gorges and canons
innumerable seamed the westward face of this wild spur of the Sierras,
and, by the merest luck in the world, one of Arnold's men, spurring
along a stony ridge, caught sight of a girlish form far across a deep
ravine, and quickly fired two shots in signal that he had "sighted"
the chase. It brought Arnold and two of his men to the spot and,
threading their way, sometimes afoot and leading their steeds,
sometimes in saddle and urging them through the labyrinth of bowlders,
they followed on. At noon they had lost not only all sight of her, but
of their comrades, nor had they seen the latter since. Byrne and his
orderlies, with three of the party that "pulled out" from Sandy with
Arnold in the morning, had disappeared. Again and again they fired
their Henrys, hoping for answering signal, or perhaps to attract
Angela's attention. All doubt as to her purpose was now ended. Mad she
might be, but determined she was, and had deliberately dodged past
them at the Beaver, fearing opposition to her project. At two,
moreover, they found that she could "trail" as well as they, for among
the stunted cedars at the crest of a steep divide, they found the
print of the stout brogans worn by their infantry comrades, and, down
among the rocks of the next ravine, crushed bits of hardtack by a
"tank" in the hillside. She had stopped there long enough at least to
water Punch, then pushed on again.

Once more they saw her, not three miles ahead at four o'clock, just
entering a little clump of pines at the top of a steep acclivity. They
fired their rifles and shouted loud in hopes of halting her, but all
to no purpose. Night came down and compelled them to bivouac. They
built a big fire to guide the wanderers, but morning broke without
sign of them; so on they went, for now, away from the rocks the trail
was often distinct, and once again they found the pony hoof-prints and
thanked God. At seven by Arnold's watch, among the breaks across a
st