ut him. He climbed over rough, broken rock, picking his
way carefully, and then went down. Here it was darker, and sheltered
from the wind. A white object guided him. It was another dog, and this
one was asleep, curled up between a saddle and a pack. The animal
awoke and thumped his tail in greeting. Venters placed the saddle for a
pillow, rolled in his blankets, with his face upward to the stars. The
white dog snuggled close to him. The other whined and pattered a few
yards to the rise of ground and there crouched on guard. And in that
wild covert Venters shut his eyes under the great white stars and
intense vaulted blue, bitterly comparing their loneliness to his own,
and fell asleep.

When he awoke, day had dawned and all about him was bright steel-gray.
The air had a cold tang. Arising, he greeted the fawning dogs and
stretched his cramped body, and then, gathering together bunches of dead
sage sticks, he lighted a fire. Strips of dried beef held to the blaze
for a moment served him and the dogs. He drank from a canteen. There was
nothing else in his outfit; he had grown used to a scant fire. Then he
sat over the fire, palms outspread, and waited. Waiting had been his
chief occupation for months, and he scarcely knew what he waited for
unless it was the passing of the hours. But now he sensed action in the
immediate present; the day promised another meeting with Lassiter and
Lane, perhaps news of the rustlers; on the morrow he meant to take the
trail to Deception Pass.

And while he waited he talked to his dogs. He called them Ring and
Whitie; they were sheep-dogs, half collie, half deerhound, superb in
build, perfectly trained. It seemed that in his fallen fortunes these
dogs understood the nature of their value to him, and governed their
affection and faithfulness accordingly. Whitie watched him with somber
eyes of love, and Ring, crouched on the little rise of ground above,
kept tireless guard. When the sun rose, the white dog took the place of
the other, and Ring went to sleep at his master's feet.

By and by Venters rolled up his blankets and tied them and his meager
pack together, then climbed out to look for his horse. He saw him,
presently, a little way off in the sage, and went to fetch him. In that
country, where every rider boasted of a fine mount and was eager for a
race, where thoroughbreds dotted the wonderful grazing ranges, Venters
rode a horse that was sad proof of his misfortunes.

Then, with h