ooded ravine
through which the stagecoach passed, which was also the entrance to
the rancho, and there, too, probably, was the turning of which Susy had
spoken. But it was still early for the rendezvous; indeed, he was in
no hurry to meet her in his present discontented state, and he made a
listless circuit of the field, in the hope of discovering the phenomena
that had caused the rancho's mysterious disappearance. When he had
found that it was the effect of the different levels, his attention was
arrested by a multitude of moving objects in a still more distant
field, which proved to be a band of wild horses. In and out among
them, circling aimlessly, as it seemed to him, appeared two horsemen
apparently performing some mystic evolution. To add to their singular
performance, from time to time one of the flying herd, driven by the
horsemen far beyond the circle of its companions, dropped suddenly and
unaccountably in full career. The field closed over it as if it had been
swallowed up. In a few moments it appeared again, trotting peacefully
behind its former pursuer. It was some time before Clarence grasped the
meaning of this strange spectacle. Although the clear, dry atmosphere
sharply accented the silhouette-like outlines of the men and horses, so
great was the distance that the slender forty-foot lasso, which in
the skillful hands of the horsemen had effected these captures, was
COMPLETELY INVISIBLE! The horsemen were Peyton's vacqueros, making a
selection from the young horses for the market. He remembered now
that Peyton had told him that he might be obliged to raise money by
sacrificing some of his stock, and the thought brought back Clarence's
uneasiness as he turned again to the trail. Indeed, he was hardly in
the vein for a gentle tryst, as he entered the wooded ravine to seek the
madrono tree which was to serve as a guide to his lady's bower.

A few rods further, under the cool vault filled with woodland spicing,
he came upon it. In its summer harlequin dress of scarlet and green,
with hanging bells of poly-tinted berries, like some personified sylvan
Folly, it seemed a fitting symbol of Susy's childish masquerade of
passion. Its bizarre beauty, so opposed to the sober gravity of the
sedate pines and hemlocks, made it an unmistakable landmark. Here he
dismounted and picketed his horse. And here, beside it, to the right,
ran the little trail crawling over mossy boulders; a narrow yellow track
through the carpe