the somber canyon walls. A week
had gone since he mailed his letter to Brand Williams, of the
Moonstone, and Collie was still alive. Overland shifted his position,
standing beside him the Winchester that had lain across his knees, and
pulling his sombrero over his eyes. The notch made an excellent
background for an object over the sights of a rifle, even at night, so
long as the moon shone. Gophertown riders would never venture that far
up the canon with horses. They would tether their ponies at the entrance
and come afoot and under cover. Still, they would have to pass the notch
in any event.

Thus it was that when, some few minutes later, Overland heard the faint
jingle of rein-chains, he grinned. It was celestial music to him.

The sound came again, nearer the notch, and clearer. He remained
motionless gazing at the shadowy opening.

Slowly a shaft of moonlight drew down toward the notch, silvering its
ragged edges. Lower the light slid until it revealed the opening and in
it the figure of a horseman. In the white light Overland could see the
quirt dangling from the other's wrist. The horseman's wide belt
glittered.

"Brand!" called Overland Red softly. The opposite wall took up the name
hesitatingly and tossed it back.

"Brand!" whispered the echoes that drifted to the darkened corners of
the cliff and were lost in voiceless murmurings.

"Brand your own stock," came the answer, low and distinct.

Overland laughed. It was their old-time pun upon the foreman's name. He
got to his feet and approached. "It does me good," he said, extending
his hand.

"How is Collie?" asked Williams, dismounting.

Overland heaved great sigh. "He's floatin' somewhere between here and
the far shore. Mebby he's tryin' to pull through. The doc says the kid
don't seem to care whether he does or not. Did--the little Rose
Girl--tell you anything to--to say to him?"

"When I was leavin' she come out to the gate," said Williams. "She
didn't say much. She only hands me this, and kind of whispered, 'Give
him this. He will understand.'"

And Williams drew a small gray gauntlet from his shirt. Overland took
the glove and tucked it in his pocket.

"Anything doing?" asked Williams.

"Nope. They're overdue to jump us if shootin' Collie was any sign."

"Like old times," said Williams.

"Like old times," echoed Overland. "No trouble findin' your way across?"

"Easy. Followed them automobile tracks clear to the range. We fed up at
the