darkness Stewart was not
so easy to keep close to even on smooth trails, and now she had to
be watchfully attentive to do it. Then followed a long march through
dragging sand. Meantime the blackness gradually changed to gray. At
length Majesty climbed out of the wash, and once more his iron shoes
rang on stone. He began to climb. The figure of Stewart and his horse
loomed more distinctly in Madeline's sight. Bending over, she tried to
see the trail, but could not. She wondered how Stewart could follow
a trail in the dark. His eyes must be as piercing as they sometimes
looked. Over her shoulder Madeline could not see the horse behind her,
but she heard him.

As Majesty climbed steadily Madeline saw the gray darkness grow opaque,
change and lighten, lose its substance, and yield the grotesque shapes
of yucca and ocotillo. Dawn was about to break. Madeline imagined she
was facing east, still she saw no brightening of sky. All at once, to
her surprise, Stewart and his powerful horse stood clear in her sight.
She saw the characteristic rock and cactus and brush that covered the
foothills. The trail was old and seldom used, and it zigzagged and
turned and twisted. Looking back, she saw the short, squat figure of
Monty Price humped over his saddle. Monty's face was hidden under his
sombrero. Behind him rode Dorothy Coombs, and next loomed up the lofty
form of Nick Steele. Madeline and the members of her party were riding
between cowboy escorts.

Bright daylight came, and Madeline saw the trail was leading up through
foothills. It led in a round-about way through shallow gullies full
of stone and brush washed down by floods. At every turn now Madeline
expected to come upon water and the waiting pack-train. But time passed,
and miles of climbing, and no water or horses were met. Expectation in
Madeline gave place to desire; she was hungry.

Presently Stewart's horse went splashing into a shallow pool. Beyond
that damp places in the sand showed here and there, and again more water
in rocky pockets. Stewart kept on. It was eight o'clock by Madeline's
watch when, upon turning into a wide hollow, she saw horses grazing on
spare grass, a great pile of canvas-covered bundles, and a fire round
which cowboys and two Mexican women were busy.

Madeline sat her horse and reviewed her followers as they rode up single
file. Her guests were in merry mood, and they all talked at once.

"Breakfast--and rustle," called out Stewart, without