ed for water,
stretching their necks piteously to low now and again. For the heat of
an Arizona summer was on the baked land and in the air that palpitated
above it.

But the end of the journey was at hand and the cowpuncher in charge of
the drive relaxed in the saddle after the easy fashion of the vaquero
when he is under no tension. He did not any longer cast swift, anxious
glances behind him to make sure no pursuit was in sight. For he had
reached safety. He knew the 'Open sesame' to that rock wall which rose
sheer in front of him. Straight for it he and his companion took their
gather, swinging the cattle adroitly round a great slab which concealed
a gateway to the secret canon. Half a mile up this defile lay what was
called Hidden Valley, an inaccessible retreat known only to those who
frequented it for nefarious purposes.

It was as the man in charge circled round to head the lead cows in that
a faint voice carried to him. He stopped, listening. It came again, a
dry, parched call for help that had no hope in it. He wheeled his pony
as on a half dollar, and two minutes later caught sight of an exhausted
figure leaning against a cottonwood. He needed no second guess to
surmise that she was lost and had been wandering over the sandy desert
through the hot day. With a shout, he loped toward her, and had his
water bottle at her lips before she had recovered from her glad surprise
at sight of him.

"You'll feel better now," he soothed. "How long you been lost, ma'am?"

"Since ten this morning. I came with my aunt to gather poppies, and
somehow I got separated from her and the rig. These hills look so alike.
I must have got turned round and mistaken one for another."

"You have to be awful careful here. Some one ought to have told you," he
said indignantly.

"Oh, they told me, but of course I knew best," she replied, with quick
scorn of her own self-sufficiency.

"Well, it's all right now," the cowpuncher told her cheerfully. He would
not for a thousand dollars have told her how near it had come to being
all wrong, how her life had probably depended upon that faint wafted
call of hers.

He put her on his horse and led it forward to the spot where the
cattle waited at the gateway. Not until they came full upon them did he
remember that it was dangerous for strange young women to see him with
those cattle and at the gateway to the Hidden canon.

"They are my uncle's cattle. I could tell the brand anywhere. Are y