the canyon, stopped at the
old place where Myra Willard and the girl were living. Riding into the
yard that was fenced only by the wild growth, he was greeted cordially by
the woman with the disfigured face, who was seated on the porch.

"Howdy, Myra," he called in return, as he swung from the saddle; and
leaving the chestnut to roam at will, he went to the porch, his spurs
clinking softly over the short, thick grass.

"Where's Sibyl?" he asked, seating himself on the top step.

"I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Oakley," the woman answered, smiling. "You
really didn't expect me to, did you?"

The Ranger laughed. "Did she take gun, basket, rod or violin? If I know
whether she's gone shooting berrying, fishing or fiddling, it may give me
a clue--or did she take all four?"

The woman watched him closely. "She took only her violin. She went
sometime after lunch--down the canyon, I think. Do you wish particularly
to see her, Mr. Oakley?"

It was evident to the woman that the officer was relieved. "Oh, no; she
wouldn't be going far with her violin. If she went down the canyon, it's
all right anyway. But I stopped in to tell the girl that she must be
careful, for a while. There's an escaped convict ranging somewhere in my
district. I received the word this morning, and have been up around Lone
Cabin and Burnt Pine and the head of Clear Creek to see if I could start
anything. I didn't find any signs, but the information is reliable. Tell
Sibyl that I say she must not go out without her gun--that if I catch her
wandering around unarmed, I'll pack her off back to civilization, pronto."

"I'll tell her," said Myra Willard, "and I'll help her to remember. It
would be better, I suppose, if she stayed at home; but that seems so
impossible."

"She'll be all right if she has her gun," asserted the Ranger,
confidently. "I'd back the girl against anything I ever met up with--when
she has her artillery. By the way, Myra, have your neighbors below called
yet?"

"No--at least, not while I have been at home. I have been berrying, two or
three times. They might have come while I was out."

"Has Sibyl met them yet?" came the next question.

"She has not mentioned it, if she has."

"H-m-m," mused Brian Oakley.

The woman's love for the girl prompted her to quick suspicion of the
Ranger's manner.

"What is it, Mr. Oakley?" she asked. "Has the child been indiscreet? Has
she done anything wrong? Has she been with those men?"

"She has