ch over the Cherry Lane trail for any
trace of his vanished granddaughter, and thereafter raise the
hue-and-cry to a general hunt through the mountains for the capture or
killing of the villain, and the recovery of the girl, dead or alive.
Not for an instant did the old man doubt that Hodges had done the
deed.

Uncle Dick had no more than passed Luffman's Branch on his way over
the Cherry Lane Trail, when a joyous hail caused him to lift his eyes
from their close scrutiny of the beaten earth. Descending the trail, a
little way in front of him, appeared the slender, erect form of the
one-armed veteran. The bridegroom moved with a jaunty step, and his
wrinkled features radiated gladness. But, as he came near, his face
sobered at sight of the other's expression. His voice was solicitous.

"I 'low somethin' air wrong," he ventured.

Uncle Dick in his distress welcomed the note of sympathy. Somehow, he
felt curiously drawn to this successful rival, and he was sure that
his feeling was returned. Between the two men there was a curious
mutual respect, as if each relied on the entire good sense of one who
had loved Fanny Brown. The older man craved a confidant; he was avid
for counsel and every possible assistance in this emergency. He told
the facts as concisely as possible, while Seth Jones, wedded raptures
forgot, listened in growing sorrow and dismay. At the end, he spoke
simply:

"I'll take a look 'long with ye, Mister Siddon. I done a heap o'
trackin' in my time, out West. Perhaps, I kin he'p ye some."

Uncle Dick put out his hand, and the two palms met in a warm clasp,
witness of friendship's pact. Forthwith, they gave themselves to
minute examination of the trail for any sign of the missing girl.

For a time, their patient search went unrewarded. But, about a
half-mile beyond Luffman's Branch, they came on an area still affected
by one of the small showers so frequent in the mountains. Here, the
veteran's alert eyes distinguished a footprint outlined in the damp
dust.

"Yer gal was barefut, I reckon," he said. He pointed to the imprint
just before where he was standing.

"Yep," Uncle Dick answered. There was a little mist over his eyes, as
he glanced down. "Yep; hit's her'n."

The veteran went forward confidently now.

"She was a-steppin' plumb brisk," he declared; "feelin' pretty peart,
I 'low; feet kind o' springy-like."

Uncle Dick shivered at the words. He had a ghastly vision of Plutina
moving at thi