man's
argument had been entirely reasonable--in fact, it seemed the sensible
thing to do. Nevertheless, she did refuse, and refuse flatly: "I
think, Mr. Bethune, that I would rather play a lone hand. You see, I
started in on this thing alone, and I want to see it through--for the
present, at least. After a while, if I find that I cannot succeed
alone, I shall be glad of your assistance. I suppose you think me a
fool, but it's a matter of pride, I guess."

Was it fancy, or did the black eyes flash a gleam of hate--a glitter
of rage beneath their long up-curving lashes? And did the swarthy face
flush a shade darker beneath its tan? Patty could not be sure, for the
next moment he was speaking in a voice under perfect control: "I can
well understand your feeling in the matter, Miss Sinclair, and I have
nothing of reproach. I do think you are making a mistake. With Vil
Holland knowing what he does of your father's operations, time may be
a vital factor in the success of your undertaking. Let me caution you
again against carrying the photograph upon your person."

"Oh, I keep that safely hidden where no one would ever think of
searching for it," smiled the girl, and Bethune noted that her eyes
involuntarily swept the cabin with a glance.

The man mounted: "I will no longer keep you from your work," he said.
"I have arranged to spend the summer in the hills where I shall carry
on some prospecting upon my own account. If I can be of any assistance
to you--if you should need any advice, or help of any kind, a word
will procure it. I shall stop in occasionally to see how you fare.
Good-bye." He waved his hand and rode off down the creek where, in a
cottonwood thicket he dismounted and watched the girl ride away in the
opposite direction, noted that Lord Clendenning swung stealthily, into
the trail behind her, and swinging into his saddle rode swiftly toward
the cabin.

In his high notch in the hills, Vil Holland chuckled audibly, and
catching up his horse, headed for his camp.

CHAPTER X

THE BISHOP OF ALL OUTDOORS

The days slipped into weeks, as Patty Sinclair, carefully and
methodically traced valleys to their sources, and explored innumerable
coulees and ravines that twisted and turned their tortuous lengths
into the very heart of the hills. Rock ledges without number she
scanned, many with deep cracks and fissures, and many without them.
But not once did she find a ledge that could by any stretch of the
im