ttle path--a thousand things that met his eyes--recalled her to his
mind until he felt her presence so vividly that he almost expected to find
her waiting, with smiling, winsome face, just around the next turn. The
officer, who, moving ahead, scanned with careful eyes every foot of the
way, seemed to the artist, now, to be playing some fantastic game. He
could not, for the moment, believe that the girl he loved was--God! where
was she? Why did Brian Oakley move so slowly, on foot, while his horse,
leisurely cropping the grass, followed? He should be in the saddle! They
should be riding, riding riding--as he had ridden last night. Last night!
Was it only last night?

Where the Government trail crosses the fire-break on the crest of the
Galenas, Brian Oakley paused. "I don't think there's been anything over
this way," he said. "We'll follow the fire-break to that point up there,
for a look around."

At noon, they stood by the big rock, under the clump of pines, where Aaron
King and Sibyl Andres had eaten their lunch.

"We'll be here some time," said the Ranger. "Make yourself comfortable. I
want to see if there's anything stirring down yonder."

With his back to the rock, he searched the Galena Valley side of the
range, through his powerful glass; commenting, now and then, when some
object came in the field of his vision, to his companion who sat beside
him.

They had risen to go and the officer was returning his glass to its case
on his saddle, when Aaron King--pointing toward Fairlands, lying dim and
hazy in the distant valley--said, "Look there!"

The other turned his head to see a flash of light that winked through the
dull, smoky veil, with startling clearness. He smiled and turned again to
his saddle. "You'll often see that," he said. "It's the sun striking some
bright object that happens to be at just the right angle to hit you with
the reflection. A bit of new tin on a roof, a window, an automobile
shield, anything bright enough, will do the trick. Come, we'll go back to
the trail and follow the break the other way."

In the dusk of the evening, at the close of the long, hard day, as Brian
Oakley and Aaron King were starting down the Oak Knoll trail on their
return to the ranch, the Ranger uttered an exclamation. His quick eyes had
caught the twinkling gleam of a light at Sibyl's old home, far below,
across the canyon. The next instant, the chestnut, followed by his
four-footed companion, was going down the