g the curve of the woody slope till further progress was
checked by the bulging wall of rock.

"Only cattle in the valley, no horses," he said. "I've a good chance to
cut across this cube and reach the trail. If I take time to climb up and
see who's at the spring maybe the chance will be gone. I don't believe
Dave and the boys are there."

He pondered a moment, then climbed up in front of Mescal, and directed
the gray out upon the valley. Soon he was among the grazing cattle. He
felt no surprise to see the H brand on their flanks.

"Jack, look at that brand," said Mescal, pointing to a white-flanked
steer. "There's an old brand like a cross, Father Naab's cross, and a
new brand, a single bar. Together they make an H!"

"Mescal! You've hit it. I remember that steer. He was a very devil to
brand. He's the property of August Naab, and Holderness has added the
bar, making a clumsy H. What a rustler's trick! It wouldn't deceive a
child."

They had reached the cedars and the trail when Wolf began to sniff
suspiciously at the wind.

"Look!" whispered Mescal, calling Hare's attention from the dog. "Look!
A new corral!"

Bending back to get in line with her pointing finger Hare looked through
a network of cedar boughs to see a fence of stripped pines. Farther up
were piles of unstripped logs, and close by the spring there was a new
cabin with smoke curling from a stone chimney. Hare guided Silvermane
off the trail to softer ground and went on. He climbed the slope, passed
the old pool, now a mud-puddle, and crossed the dry wash to be brought
suddenly to a halt. Wolf had made an uneasy stand with his nose pointing
to the left, and Silvermane pricked up his ears. Presently Hare heard
the stamping of hoofs off in the cedars, and before he had fully
determined the direction from which the sound came three horses and a
man stepped from the shade into a sunlit space.

As luck would have it Hare happened to be well screened by a thick
cedar; and since there was a possibility that he might remain unseen he
chose to take it. Silvermane and Wolf stood still in their tracks. Hare
felt Mescal's hands tighten on his coat and he pressed them to reassure
her. Peeping out from his covert he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves
leading the horses--a slender, clean-faced, dark-haired man--Dene! The
blood beat hotly in Hare's temples and he gripped the handle of his
Colt. It seemed a fatal chance that sent the outlaw to that trail. He
was whis