of twilight
into night. The sage now spread out black and gloomy. One dim star
glimmered in the southwest sky. The sound of trotting horses had
ceased, and there was silence broken only by a faint, dry pattering of
cottonwood leaves in the soft night wind.

Into this peace and calm suddenly broke the high-keyed yelp of a coyote,
and from far off in the darkness came the faint answering note of a
trailing mate.

"Hello! the sage-dogs are barking," said Venters.

"I don't like to hear them," replied Jane. "At night, sometimes when I
lie awake, listening to the long mourn or breaking bark or wild howl, I
think of you asleep somewhere in the sage, and my heart aches."

"Jane, you couldn't listen to sweeter music, nor could I have a better
bed."

"Just think! Men like Lassiter and you have no home, no comfort, no
rest, no place to lay your weary heads. Well!... Let us be patient.
Tull's anger may cool, and time may help us. You might do some service
to the village--who can tell? Suppose you discovered the long-unknown
hiding-place of Oldring and his band, and told it to my riders? That
would disarm Tull's ugly hints and put you in favor. For years my riders
have trailed the tracks of stolen cattle. You know as well as I how
dearly we've paid for our ranges in this wild country. Oldring drives
our cattle down into the network of deceiving canyons, and somewhere far
to the north or east he drives them up and out to Utah markets. If you
will spend time in Deception Pass try to find the trails."

"Jane, I've thought of that. I'll try."

"I must go now. And it hurts, for now I'll never be sure of seeing you
again. But to-morrow, Bern?"

"To-morrow surely. I'll watch for Lassiter and ride in with him."

"Good night."

Then she left him and moved away, a white, gliding shape that soon
vanished in the shadows.

Venters waited until the faint slam of a door assured him she had
reached the house, and then, taking up his rifle, he noiselessly slipped
through the bushes, down the knoll, and on under the dark trees to the
edge of the grove. The sky was now turning from gray to blue; stars had
begun to lighten the earlier blackness; and from the wide flat sweep
before him blew a cool wind, fragrant with the breath of sage. Keeping
close to the edge of the cottonwoods, he went swiftly and silently
westward. The grove was long, and he had not reached the end when he
heard something that brought him to a halt. Low padded thuds