ck of the hoof that turned in toward the other, he would go back and
ride into another gulch. And when you are told that these were many, and
that much of the ground was rocky, and some was covered with a thick mat
of grass, you will not be surprised that when Andy finally took up her
trail in the canyon farthest to the right, it was well towards noon. He
followed her easily enough until he came to the next valley, which he
examined over and over before he found where she had left it to push
deeper into the Badlands. And it was the same experience repeated when
he came out of that gulch into another open space.

He came into a network of gorges that would puzzle almost anyone, and
stopped to water his horse and let him feed for an hour or so. A man's
horse meant a good deal to him, down here on such a mission, and even
his anxiety could not betray him into letting his mount become too
fagged.

After a while he mounted and rode on without having any clue to follow;
one must trust to chance, to a certain extent, in a place like this. He
had not seen any sign of the Kid, either, and the gorges were filling
with shadows that told How low the sun was sliding down the sky. At that
time he was not more than a mile or so from the canyon up which Miss
Allen was toiling afoot toward the sun; but Andy had no means of knowing
that. He went on with drooping head and eyes that stared achingly here
and there. That was the worst of his discomfort--his eyes. Lack of sleep
and the strain of looking, looking, against wind and sun, had made them
red-rimmed and bloodshot. Miss Allen's eyes were like that, and so were
the eyes of all the searchers.

In spite of himself Andy's eyes closed now. He had not slept for two
nights, and he had been riding all that time. Before he realized it he
was asleep in the saddle, and his horse was carrying him into a gulch
that had no outlet--there were so many such!--but came up against a hill
and stopped there. The shadows deepened, and the sky above was red and
gold.

Andy woke with a jerk, his horse having stopped because he could go no
farther. But it was not that which woke him. He listened. He would have
sworn that he had heard the shrill, anxious whinney of a horse not far
away. He turned and examined the gulch, but it was narrow and grassy and
had no possible place of concealment, and save himself and his own horse
it was empty. And it was not his own horse that whinnied--he was sure of
that. Als