by the Chinese boy.

In the yard all was jingling excitement. The men of the Y.D. were
fraternally assisting Transley's gang in hitching up and getting away,
and there was much bustling activity to an accompaniment of friendly
profanity. It was not yet six o'clock, but the sun was well up over the
eastern ridges that fringed the valley, and to the west the snow-capped
summits of the mountains shone like polished ivory. The exhilaration in
the air was almost intoxicating.

Linder quickly converted the apparent chaos of horses, wagons and
implements into order; Transley had a last word with Y.D., and the
rancher, shouting "Good luck, boys! Make it a thousand tons or more,"
waved them away.

Linder glanced back at the house. The bright sunshine had not awakened
it; it lay dreaming in its grove of cool, green trees.

The trail lay, not up the valley, but across the wedge of foothills
which divided the South Y.D. from the parent stream. The assent was
therefore much more rapid than the trails which followed the general
course of the stream. Huge hills, shouldering together, left at times
only wagon-track room between; at other places they skirted dangerous
cutbanks worn by spring freshets, and again trekked for long distances
over gently curving uplands. In an hour the horses were showing the
strain of it, and Linder halted them for a momentary rest.

It was at that moment that Drazk rode up, his face a study in obvious
annoyance.

"Danged if I ain't left that Pete-horse's blanket down at the Y.D.," he
exclaimed.

"Oh, well, you can easily ride back for it and catch up on us this
afternoon," said Linder, who was not in the least deceived.

"Thanks, Lin," said Drazk. "I'll beat it down an' catch up on you
this afternoon, sure," and he was off down the trail as fast as "that
Pete-horse" could carry him.

At the Y.D. George conducted the search for his horse blanket in the
strangest places. It took him mainly about the yard of the house, and
even to the kitchen door, where he interviewed the Chinese boy.

"You catchee horse blanket around here?" he inquired, with appropriate
gesticulations.

"You losee hoss blanket?"

"Yep."

"What kind hoss blanket?"

"Jus' a brown blanket for that Pete-horse."

"Whose hoss?"

"Mine," proudly.

"Where you catchee?"

"Raised him."

"Good hoss?"

"You betcha."

"Huh!"

Pause.

"You no catchee horse blanket, hey?"

"No!" said the Chinaman, whose manner instant