gnificent
distances.

"We ought to have a dog, Billy! Why don't we get a dog to welcome us
home?" said Brownleigh, slapping the horse's neck affectionately as he
sprang from the saddle; "but then a dog would go along with us, wouldn't
he, so there'd be three of us to come home instead of two, and that
wouldn't do any good. Chickens? How would that do? But the coyotes would
steal them. I guess we'll have to get along with each other, old
fellow."

The horse, relieved of his saddle, gave a shake of comfort as a man
might stretch himself after a weary journey, and trotted into his shed.
Brownleigh made him comfortable and turned to go to the house.

As he walked along by the fence he caught sight of a small dark object
hanging on a sage-bush a short distance from the front of his house. It
seemed to move slightly, and he stopped and watched it a second thinking
it might be some animal caught in the bush, or in hiding. It seemed to
stir again as objects watched intently often will, and springing over
the rail fence Brownleigh went to investigate. Nothing in that country
was left to uncertainty. Men liked to know what was about them.

As he neared the bush, however, the object took on a tangible form and
colour, and coming closer he picked it up and turned it over clumsily in
his hand. A little velvet riding cap, undoubtedly a lady's, with the
name of a famous New York costumer wrought in silk letters in the
lining. Yes, there was no question about its being a lady's cap, for a
long gleaming golden hair, with an undoubted tendency to curl, still
clung to the velvet. A sudden embarrassment filled him, as though he had
been handling too intimately another's property unawares. He raised his
eyes and shaded them with his hand to look across the landscape, if
perchance the owner might be at hand, though even as he did so he felt a
conviction that the little velvet cap belonged to the owner of the whip
which he still held in his other hand. H. R. Where was H. R., and who
could she be?

For some minutes he stood thinking it out, locating the exact spot in
his memory where he had found the whip. It had not been on any regular
trail. That was strange. He stooped to see if there were any further
evidences of passers-by, but the slight breeze had softly covered all
definite marks. He was satisfied, however, after examining the ground
about for some distance either way, that there could have been but one
horse. He was wise in the