about it, either."

A swift pallor overspread Agnes Horton's face; a look of fright stood in
her eyes.

"Was he a tall man, dark, with heavy eyebrows?" she inquired, waiting
his answer with parted lips.

"That fits him," said he. "Do you know him?"

"It's Jerry Boyle, the Governor's son. He is Walker's friend; Walker
brought him to camp the day after you disappeared. He had an invitation
for Mrs. Reed and her party from his mother--you know they had been
expecting it. And he said--he said----"

"He said----"

"That is, he told Walker that he saw you--_drunk_ at two o'clock that
morning."

"Hum-m," rumbled the doctor, running his hands through his hair. "Hum-m!
I thought I knew that voice!"

He got to his feet in his agitation. Agnes rose quickly, placing her
hand on his arm.

"Was he the other man?" she asked.

"Well, it's a serious charge to lay against the Governor's son," he
replied, "but I'm afraid he was the other man."

There was such a look of consternation in her face that he sought to
calm her.

"He's not likely to go any further with it, though," Slavens added.

"Oh, you don't know him. You don't know him!" Agnes protested
earnestly.

He searched her face with a quick glance.

"Do you?" he asked, calmly.

"There is something bad in his face--something hiding, it seems to me,"
she said, without show of conscious evasion.

"I'll call him, no matter what move he makes," Slavens declared, looking
speculatively across the gorge. "Look how high the sun is up the wall
over yonder. I think we'd better be going back."

"Oh, I've kept you too long," she cried in self-reproach. "And to think
you were in the saddle all night."

"Yes; I lost the trail and rode a good many miles out of the way," said
he. "But for that I'd have been on hand an hour sooner."

"Well, you were in time, anyway."

"And I've drawn blindly," he laughed. "I've got a piece of land marked
'Grazing,' on the chart. It may be worth a fortune, and it may be worth
twenty cents an acre. But I'm going to see it through. When are you
going to file?"

"My number comes on the fifth day, but lapses may bring me in line
tomorrow," she answered. "Smith, the stage-driver, knows of a piece
adjoining the one he has selected for himself, if nobody 'beats him to
it,' as he says. He has given me the numbers, and I'm going to take his
word for it. About half of it can be irrigated, and it fronts on the
river. The rest is on the hills."