ed muffled in the timber, and she soon gave over that. The
afternoon was on the wane, and she began to think of and dread the
coming of night. Already the sun had dipped out of sight behind the
western ridges; his last beams were gilding the blue-white pinnacles a
hundred miles to the east. The shadows where she sat were thickening.
She had given up hope of finding the pack train, and she had cut loose
from Roaring Bill. It would be just like him to shrug his shoulders
and keep on going, she thought resentfully.

As twilight fell a brief panic seized her, followed by frightened
despair. The wilderness, in its evening hush, menaced her with huge
emptinesses, utter loneliness. She worked her way to the edge of the
wooded plateau. There was a lingering gleam of yellow and rose pink on
the distant mountains, but the valley itself lay in a blur of shade,
out of which rose the faint murmur of running water, a monotone in the
silence. She sat down on a dead tree, and cried softly to herself.

"Well?"

She started, with an involuntary gasp of fear, it was so unexpected.
Roaring Bill Wagstaff stood within five feet of her, resting one hand
on the muzzle of his grounded rifle, smiling placidly.

[Illustration: Roaring Bill Wagstaff stood within five feet of her,
resting one hand on the muzzle of his grounded rifle.]

"Well," he repeated, "this chasing up a pack train isn't so easy as it
looks, eh?"

She did not answer. Her pride would not allow her to admit that she
was glad to see him, relieved to be overtaken like a truant from
school. And Bill did not seem to expect a reply. He slung his rifle
into the crook of his arm.

"Come on, little woman," he said gently. "I knew you'd be tired, and I
made camp down below. It isn't far."

Obediently she followed him, and as she tramped at his heels she saw
why he had been able to come up on her so noiselessly. He had put on a
pair of moccasins, and his tread gave forth no sound.

"How did you manage to find me?" she asked suddenly--the first
voluntary speech from her in days.

Bill answered over his shoulder:

"Find you? Bless your soul, your little, high-heeled slices left a
trail a one-eyed man could follow. I've been within fifty yards of you
for two hours.

"Just the same," he continued, after a minute's interval, "it's bad
business for you to run off like that. Suppose you played hide and
seek with me till a storm wiped out your track? You'd be in a