ilant, writhing sound just as he
came to consciousness? Why did he feel that something, some one, had
passed him but a moment before?

He rubbed his eyes open, and fanned himself with his hat. There was not a
sound to be heard save a distant hawk in the heavens, and the breathing of
the horses. He stepped over, and made sure that they were all right, and
then came back. Was the girl still sleeping? Should he call her? But what
should he call her? She had no name to him as yet. He could not say, "My
dear madam" in the wilderness, nor yet "mademoiselle."

Perhaps it was she who had passed him. Perhaps she was looking about for
water, or for fire-wood. He cast his eyes about, but the thick growth of
sage-brush everywhere prevented his seeing much. He stepped to the right
and then to the left of the little enclosure where she had gone to sleep,
but there was no sign of life.

At last the sense of uneasiness grew upon him until he spoke.

"Are you awake yet?" he ventured; but the words somehow stuck in his
throat, and would not sound out clearly. He ventured the question again,
but it seemed to go no further than the gray-green foliage in front of
him. Did he catch an alert movement, the sound of attention, alarm? Had he
perhaps frightened her?

His flesh grew creepy, and he was angry with himself that he stood here
actually trembling and for no reason. He felt that there was danger in the
air. What could it mean? He had never been a believer in premonitions or
superstitions of any kind. But the thought came to him that perhaps that
evil man had come softly while he slept, and had stolen the girl away.
Then all at once a horror seized him, and he made up his mind to end this
suspense and venture in to see whether she were safe.

CHAPTER VI

A CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR MEETING IN THE WILDERNESS

He stepped boldly around the green barrier, and his first glance told him
she was lying there still asleep; but the consciousness of another
presence held him from going away. There, coiled on the ground with
venomous fangs extended and eyes glittering like slimy jewels, was a
rattlesnake, close beside her.

For a second he gazed with a kind of fascinated horror, and his brain
refused to act. Then he knew he must do something, and at once. He had
read of serpents and travellers' encounters with them, but no memory of
what was to be done under such circumstances came. Shoot? He dared not. He
would be more likely to kill the