." The Ranger related the incidents of the visit
to the Ridge.

The old man rode along in silence.

"And from what you say," finished Wayland, "he evidently didn't mean any
harm to come to the boy; but that is always the way with this cursed
system. You're law breaking law-makers, your divine-right-king-crooks
out here--don't _plan_ crime. They only plan to have their own way.
It's like a man breaking down a dam to get a little water. When the
floods burst through the break, he thinks it isn't his fault."

"That's what some of our Scotch kings thought; we took their heads off
just the same."

"Well, if we can get our people wakened up, we'll take a few heads off,
too, at election time." He touched his pony to a brisk trot across the
meadow, following the mule as it dodged in and out among the larches, up
over a saddle back and down again thwarting a long bare hollow.

Wayland saw the light come sifting in gold dust. Somehow, the warmth of
it swept round him in a consciousness of that night on the Ridge. It was
like the snow flakes she talked about, sculpturing the rocks, shaping
destiny. Would the day ever come when they two could ride forth
adventuring happiness together? The hammer of a woodpecker, the resinous
tang of the gold-dust air, the shaking of the evergreen needles like
gypsy tambourines--filled him with an absurd sense of the joy of life;
and he could never drink the joy of these things without thinking of her;
for the consciousness of her presence, of the warm glow of her love,
enveloped all now, permeated his being, a life inside his life, blended
of his own.

"A don't like the way that mule o' yours keeps lookin' ahead with both
ears, Wayland! It's all-fired quiet here, for noon-hour when the streams
should be shouting. There is something mighty queer and still in this
air. Yon saucy woodpecker has quit drillin'! Hold back a bit! A'm
goin' ahead! A've known these mountains longer than you have," and
curving through the brushwood, the old frontiersman came out ahead of the
pack leader.

The little mule had undoubtedly followed a kind of trail. Though the
grasses were saddle-high, punky logs showed the fresh rip of shod horses.
Little mossy streams betrayed roiled water and stones over-turned. Then,
the path emerged from the trees so abruptly you could have drawn a line
along the edge of the timber, out to a great hollowed slope, wind-blown,
bare of rocks, clear of trees as if lev