k to her in spite of everything she
could do to keep it out of her mind--was the recollection of the
murder of his father, the tragic death of his mother. As for the facts
of his story, somehow she never thought of questioning them. The seal
of its dreadful truth he carried on his face.

That day Nan washed her hair. On the second day--because there were no
good reasons for it--she found herself deciding conscientiously to see
de Spain for the last time, and toward sunset. This was about the time
he had suggested, but it really seemed, after long thought, the best
time. She began dressing early for her trip, and with constantly
recurring dissatisfaction with her wardrobe--picking the best of her
limited stock of silk stockings, choosing the freshest of her few
pairs of tan boots. All of her riding-skirts looked shabby as she
fretfully inspected them; but Bonita pressed out the newest one for
the hurried occasion, while Nan used the interval, with more than
usual care, on her troublesome hair--never less tractable, it seemed,
in her life. Nothing, in truth, in her appearance, satisfied her, and
she was obliged at last to turn from her glass with the hateful sigh
that it made no difference anyway.

De Spain was sitting with his back against a rock, and his knees drawn
up, leaning his head on his right hand and resting his elbow on the
knee. His left arm hung down over his left knee, and the look on his
face was one of reflection and irresolution rather than of action and
decision. But he looked so restored after his brief period of
nourishment that Nan, when she stepped up on the ledge at sunset,
would not have known the wreck she had seen in the same place the week
before.

His heart jumped at the sight of her young face, and her clear,
courageous eyes surveyed him questioningly as he scrambled to his
feet.

"I am going to tramp out of here to-morrow night," he confided to her
after his thanks. "It is Saturday; a lot of your men will be in Sleepy
Cat--and they won't all be very keen-sighted on their way back. I can
get a good start outside before daylight."

She heard him with relief. "What will you do then?" she asked.

"Hide. Watch every chance to crawl a mile nearer Calabasas. I can't
walk much, but I ought to make it by Sunday night or Monday morning.
I may see a friend--perhaps I may see the other fellow's friend, and
with my lone cartridge I may be able to bluff him out of a horse," he
suggested, gazing at