ted an instant, her eyes dropping, until completely shaded by
the long lashes.

"He--he was rather a wild boy, and ran away from home to enlist in the
army. But he got into a bad set, and--and deserted. That was part of
the trouble which caused him to hide. He enlisted under the name of Fred
Willoughby. Mr. Hawley told me this much, but I am afraid he did not
tell me all."

"And he said you would meet him here?"

Keith gazed about on the bare surroundings wonderingly. What was this
place, hidden away in the midst of the desert, isolated in a spot where
not even Indians roamed. Could it be a secret rendezvous of crime, the
headquarters of desperadoes, of cattle-rustlers, of highwaymen of the
Santa Fe Trail--a point to which they could ride when hard pressed,
certain of hiding here in safety? He began to suspect this, but, if so,
who then was this Hawley, and with what object had he sent this girl
here? Every way he turned was to confront mystery, to face a new puzzle.
Whatever she might be--even the music hall singer he believed--she had
been inveigled here innocently enough. Even now she possessed only the
most vague suspicion that she had been deceived. The centre of the whole
plot, if there was a plot, must be Hawley.

"Yes," she replied, "he said that this was one of the stations of a big
ranch on which Fred was employed, and that he would certainly be here
within a day or two."

"You met Hawley on the stage coach? How did you become acquainted?"

"We were alone for nearly fifty miles," her voice faltering slightly,
"and--and he called me what you did."

"Christie Maclaire?"

"Yes; he--he seemed to think he knew me, and I needed help so much that
I let him believe so. I thought it could do no harm, and then, when I
found he actually knew Fred, I didn't think of anything else, only how
fortunate I was to thus meet him. Surely something serious must have
happened, or he would have been here before this. Do you--do you suppose
there is anything wrong?"

Keith did not smile nor change posture. The more he delved into the
matter, the more serious he felt the situation to be. He knew all those
ranches lying south on the Canadian, and was aware that this was no
out-station. No cattle ever came across that sandy desert unless driven
by rustlers, and no honest purpose could account for this isolated hut.
There had been frequent robberies along the trail, and he had overheard
tales of mysterious disappearances in bo