tched her
comings and goings from his notch in the hills? Why did he follow her
about upon her rides? And why did he carry that disgusting jug? She
admitted that she had never seen him the worse for indulgence in the
contents of the jug, but if he were not a confirmed drunkard, why
should he carry it? She knew Bethune hated him--and that counted a
point in his favor--now. But it did not prove that he was not as bad
as Bethune. But why had Bethune told Microby that he would get that
picture if he had to kill her and Vil Holland? What had Vil Holland
to do with his getting the picture! Surely, Bethune did not believe
that Vil Holland shared her secret! Vil Holland _must_ be lawless--the
running of the sheep herder out of the hills was a lawless act. Why,
then, were such men as Thompson and the Reverend Len Christie his
friends? This question had puzzled her much of late, and not finding
the answer, she realized her own dislike of the man had waned
perceptibly. Instinctively, she knew that Len Christie was genuine.
She liked this "Bishop of All Outdoors," who could find time to ride a
hundred miles to cheer a sick old man; who would think to bring
pencils and drawing paper to a little boy who roamed over the
hillsides with a piece of charcoal, searching for flat rocks upon
which to draw his pictures; and who sang deep, full-throated ballads
as he rode from one to the other of his scattered hill folk, upon his
outlandish pinto. Surely, such men as he, and the jovial,
whole-hearted Thompson--men who had known Vil Holland for
years,--could not be deceived.

"Is it possible I've misjudged him?" she asked herself. And when at
last she dropped to sleep it was to plunge into a confused jumble of
dreams whose dominant figure was her lone horseman of the hills.

Patty resolved to keep her promise to Christie and ride over to the
Samuelson ranch, before she started to work out the directions of her
father's map. "I may be weeks doing it if I continue to be as dumb as
I have been," she laughed. "And when I get started I know I'll never
want to stop 'til I've worked it out."

Immediately after breakfast she saddled her horse and returning to the
cabin, picked up the little oiled silk packet that contained
photograph and map. Where should she hide it? Her glance traveled from
the locked trunks to the loose board in the floor. Each had been
searched time and again. "Whoever he is, he'd think it was funny that
I decided all at once t