raid of
coyotes. And, although the storm of three days ago had been swept into
mere memory by that sudden chinook wind, and the days were once more
invitingly warm and hazily tranquil, night came shiveringly upon the
land and the unhoused thought longingly of hot suppers and the glow of a
fire.

The girl's horse was, he believed, just disappearing into a deep
depression half a mile farther on; but when he reached the place where
he had seen it, there was nothing in sight save a few head of cattle and
a coyote trotting leisurely up the farther slope. He went farther down
the shallow coulee, then up to the high level beyond, his rope coiled
loosely over one arm with the end dragging a foot behind him. But there
was nothing to be seen from up there, except that the sun was just a red
disk upon the far-off hills, and that the night was going to be
uncomfortably cool if that wind kept blowing from the northwest.

He began to feel slightly uneasy about the girl, and to regret wasting
any time over her horse, and to fear that he might not be able to get
close enough to rope the beast, even if he did see him.

He turned back then and walked swiftly through the dusk toward the
ridge, beyond which she and Rambler were waiting. But it was a long
way--much farther than he had realized until he came to retrace his
steps--and the wind blew up a thin rift of clouds which made the
darkness come quickly. He found it difficult to tell exactly at which
point he had crossed the ridge, coming over; and although experience in
the open develops in a man a certain animal instinct for directions
handed down by our primitive ancestry, Ford went wide in his anxiety to
take the shortest way back to his unwilling protegee. The westering
slope was lighter, however, and five minutes of wandering along the
ridge showed him a dim bulk which he knew was Rambler. He hurried to the
place, and the horse whinnied shrilly as he approached.

"I looked as long as I could see, almost, but I couldn't locate your
horse," Ford remarked to the dark shadow of the rose bushes. "I'll put
you on mine. It will be slow going, of course--lame as he is--but I
guess we can manage to get somewhere."

He waited for the chill, impersonal reply. When she did not speak, he
leaned and peered at the spot where he knew she must be. "If you want to
try it, we'd better be starting," he urged sharply. "It's going to be
pretty cold here on this side-hill."

When there was silenc