lanket, threw the canteen across his
shoulder, and set forth, sure at least of one thing--that he was a very
much better traveler on foot than on horseback.

Walking did not afford him the leisure to study the surrounding country;
however, from time to time, when he surmounted a bench he scanned the
different landmarks that had grown familiar. It took hours of steady
walking to reach and pass the yellow peak that had been a kind of
goal. He saw many sheep trails and horse tracks in the vicinity of this
mountain, and once he was sure he espied an Indian watching him from a
bold ridge-top.

The day was bright and warm, with air so clear it magnified objects
he knew to be far away. The ascent was gradual; there were many narrow
flats connected by steps; and the grass grew thicker and longer. At noon
Shefford halted under the first cedar-tree, a lonely, dwarfed shrub that
seemed to have had a hard life. From this point the rise of ground was
more perceptible, and straggling cedars led the eye on to a purple slope
that merged into green of pinyon and pine. Could that purple be the
sage Venters had so feelingly described, or was it merely the purple of
deceiving distance? Whatever it might be, it gave Shefford a thrill and
made him think of the strange, shy, and lovely woman Venters had won out
here in this purple-sage country.

He calculated that he had ridden thirty miles the day before and had
already traveled ten miles today, and therefore could hope to be in the
pass before night. Shefford resumed his journey with too much energy and
enthusiasm to think of being tired. And he discovered presently that
the straggling cedars and the slope beyond were much closer than he
had judged them to be. He reached the sage to find it gray instead of
purple. Yet it was always purple a little way ahead, and if he half shut
his eyes it was purple near at hand. He was surprised to find that he
could not breathe freely, or it seemed so, and soon made the discovery
that the sweet, pungent, penetrating fragrance of sage and cedar had
this strange effect upon him. This was an exceedingly dry and odorous
forest, where every open space between the clumps of cedars was choked
with luxuriant sage. The pinyons were higher up on the mesa, and the
pines still higher. Shefford appeared to lose himself. There were no
trails; the black mesa on the right and the wall of stone on the left
could not be seen; but he pushed on with what was either singul