ng himself. "I beg your
pardon for threatening you. But you'll have to find your own way. Will
you put up here for the night, again?"

"Thanks. Glad to, if it won't trouble you. See you later."

"Perhaps not. I'm turning in early. I'll leave the shack unlocked for
you."

Gardner opened the outer door and was blown back into the station by an
explosive gust of soaking wind.

"On second thought," said he, "I don't think I'll try to go out there
this evening. The young lady can't very well get away to-night, unless
she has wings, and it's pretty damp for flying. Can I get dinner over at
the village?"

"Such as it is. I'll go over with you."

At the entrance to the unclean little hotel they parted, Banneker going
further to find Mindle the "teamer," whom he could trust and with whom
he held conference, brief and very private. They returned to the station
together in the gathering darkness, got a hand car onto the track, and
loaded it with a strange burden, after which Mindle disappeared into the
storm with the car while Banneker wired to Stanwood an imperative call
for a relief for next day even though the substitute should have to walk
the twenty-odd miles. Thereafter he made, from the shack, a careful
selection of food with special reference to economy of bulk, fastened it
deftly beneath his poncho, saddled his horse, and set out for the Van
Arsdale lodge. The night was pitch-black when he entered the area of the
pines, now sonorous with the rush of the upper winds.

Io saw the gleam of his flashlight and ran to the door to meet him.

"Are you ready?" he asked briefly.

"I can be in fifteen minutes." She turned away, asking no questions.

"Dress warmly," he said. "It's an all-night trip. By the way, can you
swim?"

"For hours at a time."

Camilla Van Arsdale entered the room. "Are you taking her away, Ban?
Where?"

"To Miradero, on the Southwestern and Sierra."

"But that's insanity," protested the other. "Sixty miles, isn't it? And
over trailless desert."

"All of that. But we're not going across country. We're going by water."

"By water? Ban, you _are_ out of your mind. Where is there any
waterway?"

"Dry Bed Arroyo. It's running bank-full. My boat is waiting there."

"But it will be dangerous. Terribly dangerous. Io, you mustn't."

"I'll go," said the girl quietly, "if Ban says so."

"There's no other way out. And it isn't so dangerous if you're used to a
boat. Old Streatham made it seven yea