joy
in the blessed release. Wilhelmina was worried, for the sightseers from
Blackwater had disappeared as soon as Wunpost rode away; and now, two
days later, his dog had come back, meeching and whining and licking its
feet. Good Luck had left Wunpost and returned to the ranch, where he was
sure of food and a friend; but now that he was fed he begged and
whimpered uneasily and watched every move that she made. And every time
that she started towards the trail where Wunpost had ridden away he
barked and ran eagerly ahead. Billy stood it until noon, then she caught
up Tellurium and rode off after the dog.

He led up the trail, where he had run so often before, but over the
ridge he turned abruptly downhill and Billy refused to follow. Wunpost
certainly had taken the upper trail, for there were his tracks leading
on; and the dog, after all, had no notion of leading her to his master.
He was still young and inexperienced, though with that thoroughbred
smartness which set him apart from the ordinary cur; but when she made
as though to follow he cut circles with delight and ran along enticingly
in front of her. So Billy rode after him, and at the foot of the hill
she found mule-tracks heading off north. Wunpost had made a wide detour
and come back, probably at night, to throw off his pursuers and start
fresh; but as she followed the tracks she found where several horse
tracks had circled and cut into his trail. She picked up Good Luck, who
was beginning to get footsore, and followed the mule-tracks at a lope.

Near the mouth of the canyon they struck out over the mud, which the
cloudburst had spread out for miles, but now they were across and going
down the slope which a thousand previous floods had laid. Ahead lay Warm
Springs, where the Indians sometimes camped; but the trail cut out
around them and headed for Fall Canyon, the next big valley to the
north. She rode on steadily, her big pistol that Wunpost had once
borrowed now back in its accustomed place; and the fact that she had
failed to tell her parents of her intentions did not keep her from
taking up the hunt. Wunpost was in trouble, and she knew it; and now she
was on her way, either to find him or to make sure he was safe.

The trail up Fall Canyon twists and winds among wash boulders, over
cut-banks and up sandy gulches; but at the mouth of the canyon it
plunges abruptly into willow-brush and leads on up the bed of a dry
creek. Once more the steep ridges closed i