at he would do if he knew that she was
returning, a prisoner. "He would come to me," she said, in answer to her
own question, and the thought that in all that mighty spread of peak and
plain he was the one gracious and kindly soul lent a kind of glamour to
his name. "After all, a loyal soul like his is worth more than any mine
or mountain," she acknowledged.

The marshal, a small, quaint, middle-aged person with squinting glance
and bushy hair, was not only very much in awe of his lovely prisoner,
but so accustomed to going about in his shirt-sleeves that he suffered
acutely in the confinement of his heavy coat. Nevertheless, in spite of
his discomfort, he was very considerate in a left-handed way, and did
his best to conceal the official relationship between himself and his
wards. He not only sat behind them all the way, but he made no attempt
at conversation, and for these favors Helen was genuinely grateful. Only
as they neared the station did he venture to address her.

"Now the sheriff will probably be on hand," he said; "and if he is I'll
just naturally turn you over to him; but in case he isn't I'll have to
take you right over to the jail. I'm sorry, but that's my orders. So if
you'll kindly step along just ahead of me, people may not notice you're
in my charge."

Helen assured him that she would obey every suggestion, and that she
deeply appreciated his courtesy.

Kauffman's spirit was sadly broken. His age, the rough usage of the day
before, and this unwarranted second arrest had combined to take away
from him a large part of his natural courage. He insisted that Helen
should wire her Eastern friends, stating the case and appealing for
aid.

"We need help now," he said. "We are being persecuted."

Helen, however, remembering Carmody's kindness, said: "Don't be
discouraged, daddy. It may be that we are only witnesses and that after
we have testified we shall be released. Wait until to-morrow; I hate to
announce new troubles to my relatives."

"But we shall need money," he said, anxiously. "We have only a small
balance."

It was nearly six o'clock as they came winding down between the grassy
buttes which formed the gateway to the town, and the girl recalled, with
a wave of self-pity, the feeling of exaltation with which she had first
looked upon that splendid purple-walled canyon rising to the west. It had
appealed to her at that time as the gateway to a mystic sanctuary. Now
it was but the lair of thie