a detailed account of Forsythe's looks and
acts.

In less than an hour the relief expedition had started. Before night had
fallen Jasper Kemp, riding hard, arrived at the mission, told his story,
procured a fresh horse, and after a couple of hours, rest started with
Brownleigh and his wife for Keams Canon.

Gardley and Bud, riding for all they were worth, said little by the way.
Now and then the boy stole glances at the man's face, and the dead
weight of sorrow settled like lead, the heavier, upon his heart. Too
well he knew the dangers of the desert. He could almost read Gardley's
fears in the white, drawn look about his lips, the ashen circles under
his eyes, the tense, strained pose of his whole figure. Gardley's mind
was urging ahead of his steed, and his body could not relax. He was
anxious to go a little faster, yet his judgment knew it would not do,
for his horse would play out before he could get another. They ate their
corn bread in the saddle, and only turned aside from the trail once to
drink at a water-hole and fill their cans. They rode late into the
night, with only the stars and their wits to guide them. When they
stopped to rest they did not wait to make a fire, but hobbled the horses
where they might feed, and, rolling quickly in their blankets, lay down
upon the ground.

Bud, with the fatigue of healthy youth, would have slept till morning in
spite of his fears, but Gardley woke him in a couple of hours, made him
drink some water and eat a bite of food, and they went on their way
again. When morning broke they were almost to the entrance of Keams
Canon and both looked haggard and worn. Bud seemed to have aged in the
night, and Gardley looked at him almost tenderly.

"Are you all in, kid?" he asked.

"Naw!" answered Bud, promptly, with an assumed cheerfulness. "Feeling
like a four-year-old. Get on to that sky? Guess we're going to have some
day! Pretty as a red wagon!"

Gardley smiled sadly. What would that day bring forth for the two who
went in search of her they loved? His great anxiety was to get to Keams
Canon and inquire. They would surely know at the trading-post whether
the missionary and his party had gone that way.

The road was still almost impassable from the flood; the two dauntless
riders picked their way slowly down the trail to the post.

But the trader could tell them nothing comforting. The missionary had
not been that way in two months, and there had been no party and no lady