d either
forgotten the bag or had left it deliberately.

At Rock City, then, Lone stopped to examine the base of every rock,
even riding around those nearest the road. The girl, he guessed
shrewdly, had not wandered off the main highway, else she would not
have been able to find it again. Rock City was confusing unless one
was perfectly familiar with its curious, winding lanes.

It was when he was riding slowly around the boulder marked "Palace
Hotel, Rates Reasnible," that he came upon the place where a horse had
stood, on the side best sheltered from the storm. Deep hoof marks
closely overlapping, an overturned stone here and there gave proof
enough, and the rain-beaten soil that blurred the hoofprints farthest
from the rock told him more. Lone backed away, dismounted, and,
stepping carefully, went close. He could see no reason why a horse
should have stood there with his head toward the road ten feet away,
unless his rider was waiting for something--or some one. There were
other boulders near which offered more shelter from rain.

Next the rock he discovered a boot track, evidently made when the rider
dismounted. He thought of the wild statement of the girl about seeing
some one shoot a man and wondered briefly if there could be a basis of
truth in what she said. But the road showed no sign of a struggle,
though there were, here and there, hoofprints half washed out with the
rain.

Lone went back to his horse and rode on, still looking for the bag.
His search was thorough and, being a keen-eyed young man, he discovered
the place where Lorraine had crouched down by a rock. She must have
stayed there all night, for the scuffed soil was dry where her body had
rested, and her purse, caught in the juniper bush close by, was sodden
with rain.

"The poor little kid!" he muttered, and with a sudden impulse he turned
and looked toward the rock behind which the horse had stood. Help had
been that close, and she had not known it, unless----

"If anything happened there last night, she could have seen it from
here," he decided, and immediately put the thought away from him.

"But nothing happened," he added, "unless maybe she saw him ride out
and go on down the road. She was out of her head and just imagined
things."

He slipped the soaked purse into his coat pocket, remounted and rode on
slowly, looking for the grip and half-believing she had not been
carrying one, but had dreamed it just as she had dreamed