e recalled the moment upon the verge of the bench when
in a flash she had realized the true character of Purdy and her own
utter helplessness. With a great surge of gratitude--and--was it only
gratitude--this admiration and pride in the achievement of the man who
had rushed to her rescue? Alone there in the darkness the girl flushed
to the roots of her hair as she realized that it was for this man she
had unhesitatingly and unquestioningly ridden far into the night in
company with an unknown Indian. Realized, also, that above the pain of
her tortured muscles, above the uncertainty of her own position, was
the anxiety and worry as to the fate of Endicott. Where was he? Had
Tex lied when he told her there would be no lynching? Even if he
desired could he prevent the cowboys from wreaking their vengeance upon
the man who had killed one of their number? She recalled with a
shudder the cold cynicism of the smile that habitually curled the lips
of the Texan. A man who could smile like that could lie--could do
anything to gain an end. And yet--she realized with a puzzled frown
that in her heart was no fear of him--no terror such as struck into her
very soul at the sudden unmasking of Purdy. "It's his eyes," she
murmured; "beneath his cynical exterior lies a man of finer fibre."

Some distance away a match flared in the darkness and went out, and
dimly by the little light of the stars Alice made out the form of the
half-breed seated upon his rock beside the trail. Motionless as the
rock itself the man sat humped over with his arms entwining his knees.
A sombre figure, and one that fitted intrinsically into the scene--the
dark shapes of the three horses that snipped grass beside the trail,
the soft murmur of the waters of the creek as they purled over the
stones, the black wall of the coulee, with the mountains rising
beyond--all bespoke the wild that since childhood she had pictured, but
never before had seen. Under any other circumstances the setting would
have appealed, would have thrilled her to the soul. But now--over and
over through her brain repeated the question: Where is he?

A horse nickered softly and raising his head, sniffed the night air.
The Indian stepped from his rock and stood alert with his eyes on the
reach of the back-trail. And then softly, almost inaudibly to the ears
of the girl came the sound of horses' hoofs pounding the trail in
monotonous rhythm.

Leaping to her feet she rushed forwar