w the animal's track back as far as possible. He
knew, also, that if the animal had been wandering several hours, as was
likely, it would be impossible to back-track far. Late as it was, Aaron
King rode up the canyon to tell Myra Willard and Conrad Lagrange the
result of the day's work.

The artist's voice trembled as he told the general opinion of the
mountaineers; but Myra Willard said, "Mr. King, they are wrong. My baby
will come back. There's harm come to her no doubt; but she is not dead
or--I would know it."

In spite of the fact that Aaron King's reason told him the woman of the
disfigured face had no ground for her belief, he was somehow helped, by
her words, to hope.

Chapter XXXIV

The Tracks on Granite Peak

The searching party was already on the way over to Pine Glen, when Brian
Oakley stopped at Sibyl's old home for Aaron King. The Ranger, himself,
had waited to receive the morning message from the Sheriff.

When the two men, following the Government trail that leads to the
neighborhood where the girl's horse had been found, reached the fire-break
on the summit of the Galenas, the officer said, "Aaron, you'll be of
little use over there in that Pine Glen country, where you have never
been." He had pulled up his horse and was looking at his companion,
steadily.

"Is there nothing that I can do, Brian?" returned the young man,
hopelessly. "God, man! I _must_ do something! I _must_, I tell you!"

"Steady, old boy, steady," returned the mountaineer's calm voice. "The
first thing you must do, you know, is to keep a firm grip on yourself. If
you lose your nerve I'll have you on my hands too."

Under his companion's eye, the artist controlled himself. "You're right,
Brian," he said calmly. "What do you want me to do? You know best, of
course."

The officer, still watching him, said slowly, "I want you to spend the
day on that point, up there,"--he pointed to the clump of pines,--"with
this glass." He turned to take an extra field-glass from his saddle.
Handing the glass to the other, he continued "You can see all over the
country, on the Galena Valley side of this range, from there." Again he
paused, as though reluctant to give the final word of his instructions.

The young man looked at him, questioningly. "Yes?"

The Ranger answered in a low tone, "You are to watch for buzzards, Aaron."

Aaron King went white. "Brian! You think--"

The answer came sharply, "I am not thinking. I don't d