Shefford coming, for he rose with
unwonted alacrity, and he kicked the smoldering logs into a flickering
blaze.

Shefford, realizing his deliverance, came panting, staggering into the
light. The Mormon uttered an exclamation. Then he spoke, anxiously, but
what he said was not clear in Shefford's thick and throbbing ears. He
dropped his pipe, a sign of perturbation, and he stared.

But Shefford, without a word, lunged swiftly away into the shadow of the
cedars. He found relief in action. He began a steep ascent of the east
wall, a dangerous slant he had never dared even in daylight, and he
climbed it without a slip. Danger, steep walls, perilous heights, night,
and black canyon the same--these he never thought of. But something
drove him to desperate effort, that the hours might seem short.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The red sun was tipping the eastern wall when he returned to camp, and
he was neither calm nor sure of himself nor ready for sleep or food.
Only he had put the night behind him.

The Indian showed no surprise. But Joe Lake's jaw dropped and his eyes
rolled. Moreover, Joe bore a singular aspect, the exact nature of which
did not at once dawn upon Shefford.

"By God! you've got nerve--or you're crazy!" he ejaculated, hoarsely.

Then it was Shefford's turn to stare. The Mormon was haggard, grieved,
frightened, and utterly amazed. He appeared to be trying to make certain
of Shefford's being there in the flesh and then to find reason for it.

"I've no nerve and I am crazy," replied Shefford. "But, Joe--what do you
mean? Why do you look at me like that?"

"I reckon if I get your horse that'll square us. Did you come back for
him? You'd better hit the trail quick."

"It's you now who're crazy," burst out Shefford.

"Wish to God I was," replied Joe.

It was then Shefford realized catastrophe, and cold fear gnawed at his
vitals, so that he was sick.

"Joe, what has happened?" he asked, with the blood thick in his heart.

"Hadn't you better tell me?" demanded the Mormon, and a red wave blotted
out the haggard shade of his face.

"You talk like a fool," said Shefford, sharply, and he strode right up
to Joe.

"See here, Shefford, we've been pards. You're making it hard for me.
Reckon you ain't square."

Shefford shot out a long arm and his hand clutched the Mormon's burly
shoulder.

"Why am I not square? What do you mean?"

Joe swallowed hard and gave himself a shake. Then he eyed his comrade
stead