k. And with this knowledge Buck outlined their
plans to the girl, who hung upon his every word.

"We can't quit yet," he said, when they had broken their fast.

The girl waited, watching his dark contemplative eyes as they looked
across the water at the diminished hill.

"Nope," he went on. "We owe him more'n that. We must chase around,
an'--find him. We must----"

"Yes," Joan broke in, her eyes full of eager acquiescence. "We must
not leave him--to--to--the coyotes." She shuddered.

"No. Guess I'll git the horses."

"You? Oh, Buck--let me. I am well and strong. It is my turn to do
something now. Your work is surely finished."

Her pleading eyes smiled up into his, but the man shook his head with
that decision she had come to recognize and obey almost without
question.

"Not on your life, little gal," he said, in his kindly, resolute
fashion, and Joan was left to take her woman's place in their scheme
of things.

But she shared in the search of the hill and the woods. She shared in
the ceaseless hunt for three long, weary, heart-breaking days over a
land of desolation and loneliness. She rode at Buck's side hour after
hour on the sturdy horse that had served the Padre so faithfully, till
her body was healthily weary, and her eyes grew heavy with straining.
But she welcomed the work. For, with the tender mother eye of the
woman in her, she beheld that which gladdened her heart, and made the
hardest work a mere labor of love. Each passing day, almost with each
passing hour, she witnessed the returning vigor of the man she loved.
His recuperative powers were marvelous, and she watched his bodily
healing as though he were her own helpless offspring.

For the rest their search was hopeless. The battling forces of a
storm-riven earth had claimed their toll to the last fraction, and
with the cunning of the miser had secreted the levy. Not a trace was
there of any human life but their own. The waters from the hill swept
the little valley, and hugged to their bosom the secrets that lay
beneath their surface. And the fall of rock held deeply buried all
that which it had embraced in its rending. The farm was utterly
destroyed, and with it had fallen victims every head of stock Joan had
possessed. The old fur fort had yielded to the fire demon, where, for
all the ages, it had resisted the havoc of storm. There was nothing
left to mark the handiwork of man, nothing but the terrible
destruction it had brought about.

T