orward and examined the
trail for wheel marks.

"By Jinks! Pinto," he muttered, "the old man and the girl is shore
hittin' the trail hard for that there death-bed. I'll bet that pore
girl's tired, for they must have made a short camp last night. _Vamos,
caballo_!" and so he spurred on to the northward along the hot low
flats.

By noon he sighted a dust cloud on ahead, which told him that he had the
other party well in hand if he liked, in spite of the speed they were
making.

"They travelled all night, that's what they did! If that Mexican don't
kill his team, it's a lucky thing." He did not seek to close the gap
between them, but on the other hand pulled up and rode more slowly.

"Now, Pinto," he pondered, "whatever in the world am I goin' to do when
we all pull into town? Deathbed--and him like enough settin' up and
playin' solitaire, or out pitchin' horse shoes. Shucks! If I could git
around behind Dan Anderson's house, I believe I'd shoot him a few for
luck, so's to make some sort of death-bed scene like is announced in the
small bills. We've been playin' it low down on them two folks, and for
one, I wish't I was out of it. Pinto, this here particular trusted
henchman has shore got cold feet right here."

He trailed behind the buckboard hour after hour, dropping back into a
gully for concealment now and then, and putting off the unpleasant hour
of meeting as long as possible. He kept in the rear until the vehicle
turned in at the mouth of the canon which led up to the valley of
Heart's Desire. Then Curly hastened, and so finally clattered up
alongside the buckboard. Ellsworth was gray with fatigue, and Constance
worn and pale; seeing which Curly cursed himself, Tom Osby, and all
animate and inanimate things. "It's a shame, that's what it is!" he
muttered to himself reproachfully, and averted his face when Constance
smiled at him bravely and disclaimed fatigue.

The sun was beginning to sink beyond Baxter peak as they came in view of
the little straggling town, clinging hard to the earth as it had through
so many years of oblivion. It was an enchanted valley upon which they
gazed. The majestic robes of the purple shadows, tremendous,
wide-spreading, yet soft as the texture of thrice-piled velvet, were
falling upon the shoulders of the hills. An unspeakable, stately calm
came with the hour of evening. It was a world apart, beautiful, unreal,
sweet and full of peace. Far, far from here were al