s side, he stopped to regain his breath,
and while resting his eyes roved around in search of a horse. Doors
and windows of the stable were open wide and had a deserted look. One
dejected, lonely burro stood in the near corral. Strange indeed was the
silence brooding over the once happy, noisy home of Jane Withersteen's
pets.

He went into the corral, exercising care to leave no tracks, and led the
burro to the watering-trough. Venters, though not thirsty, drank till he
could drink no more. Then, leading the burro over hard ground, he struck
into the sage and down the slope.

He strode swiftly, turning from time to time to scan the slope for
riders. His head just topped the level of sage-brush, and the burro
could not have been seen at all. Slowly the green of Cottonwoods sank
behind the slope, and at last a wavering line of purple sage met the
blue of sky.

To avoid being seen, to get away, to hide his trail--these were the sole
ideas in his mind as he headed for Deception Pass, and he directed all
his acuteness of eye and ear, and the keenness of a rider's judgment for
distance and ground, to stern accomplishment of the task. He kept to the
sage far to the left of the trail leading into the Pass. He walked ten
miles and looked back a thousand times. Always the graceful, purple wave
of sage remained wide and lonely, a clear, undotted waste. Coming to a
stretch of rocky ground, he took advantage of it to cross the trail and
then continued down on the right. At length he persuaded himself that he
would be able to see riders mounted on horses before they could see him
on the little burro, and he rode bareback.

Hour by hour the tireless burro kept to his faithful, steady trot. The
sun sank and the long shadows lengthened down the slope. Moving veils of
purple twilight crept out of the hollows and, mustering and forming on
the levels, soon merged and shaded into night. Venters guided the
burro nearer to the trail, so that he could see its white line from the
ridges, and rode on through the hours.

Once down in the Pass without leaving a trail, he would hold himself
safe for the time being. When late in the night he reached the break in
the sage, he sent the burro down ahead of him, and started an avalanche
that all but buried the animal at the bottom of the trail. Bruised and
battered as he was, he had a moment's elation, for he had hidden his
tracks. Once more he mounted the burro and rode on. The hour was the
black