? It
should be about there." Her eyes searched the face of the cliff for
the zigzag crevice. "Maybe I'm too close to it," she muttered. "The
picture was taken from a hillside across the valley. That must be the
hill--the one with the bare patch half way up. That's right where he
must have stood when he took the photograph." The hillside rose
abruptly, and abandoning her horse, the girl climbed the steep ascent,
pausing at frequent intervals for breath. At last, she stood upon the
bare shoulder of the hill and gazed out across the valley, and as she
gazed, her heart sank. "It isn't the place," she muttered. "There is
no big tree, and the rock cliff isn't a bit like the one in the
picture--and I thought I had found it sure! I wonder how many of those
rock walls there are in the hills? And will I ever find the right
one?"

Once more in the saddle, she crossed another divide and scanned
another rock wall, and farther down, another. "I believe every single
valley in these hills has its own rock ledge, and some of them three
or four!" she cried disgustedly, as she seated herself beside a tiny
spring that trickled from beneath a huge rock, and proceeded to devour
her lunch. "I had no idea how hungry I could get," she stared ruefully
at the paper that had held her two sandwiches. "Next time I'll bring
about six."

Producing her compass, she leveled a place among the stones. "Let's
see if I can point to the north without its help." She glanced at the
sun and carefully scanned the tumultuous skyline. "It is there," she
indicated a gap between two peaks, and glanced at the compass. "I knew
I wouldn't get turned around," she said, proudly. "I didn't miss it
but just a mite--anyway it's near enough for all practical purposes.
If that's north," she speculated, "then I must have started east and
then turned south, and then west, and then south again, and my cabin
must be almost due north of me now." She returned the compass to her
pocket. "I'll explore a little farther and then work toward home."

Mounting, she turned northward, and emerging abruptly from a clump of
trees, caught a glimpse of swift motion a quarter of a mile away,
where her trail had dipped into the valley, as a horse and rider
disappeared like a flash into the timber. "He's following me!" she
cried angrily, "sneaking along my trail like a coyote! I'll tell him
just what I think of him and his cowardly spying." Urging her horse
into a run, she reached the spot to