t or north from remote distance, breathed an infinitely
low, continuously long sound--deep, weird, detonating, thundering,
deadening--dying.

CHAPTER XXIII. THE FALL OF BALANCING ROCK

Through tear-blurred sight Jane Withersteen watched Venters and
Elizabeth Erne and the black racers disappear over the ridge of sage.

"They're gone!" said Lassiter. "An' they're safe now. An' there'll never
be a day of their comin' happy lives but what they'll remember Jane
Withersteen an'--an' Uncle Jim!... I reckon, Jane, we'd better be on our
way."

The burros obediently wheeled and started down the break with little
cautious steps, but Lassiter had to leash the whining dogs and lead
them. Jane felt herself bound in a feeling that was neither listlessness
nor indifference, yet which rendered her incapable of interest. She was
still strong in body, but emotionally tired. That hour at the entrance
to Deception Pass had been the climax of her suffering--the flood of
her wrath--the last of her sacrifice--the supremity of her love--and the
attainment of peace. She thought that if she had little Fay she would
not ask any more of life.

Like an automaton she followed Lassiter down the steep trail of dust and
bits of weathered stone; and when the little slides moved with her or
piled around her knees she experienced no alarm. Vague relief came to
her in the sense of being enclosed between dark stone walls, deep hidden
from the glare of sun, from the glistening sage. Lassiter lengthened the
stirrup straps on one of the burros and bade her mount and ride close
to him. She was to keep the burro from cracking his little hard hoofs on
stones. Then she was riding on between dark, gleaming walls. There were
quiet and rest and coolness in this canyon. She noted indifferently that
they passed close under shady, bulging shelves of cliff, through patches
of grass and sage and thicket and groves of slender trees, and over
white, pebbly washes, and around masses of broken rock. The burros
trotted tirelessly; the dogs, once more free, pattered tirelessly; and
Lassiter led on with never a stop, and at every open place he looked
back. The shade under the walls gave place to sunlight. And presently
they came to a dense thicket of slender trees, through which they passed
to rich, green grass and water. Here Lassiter rested the burros for a
little while, but he was restless, uneasy, silent, always listening,
peering under the trees. She dully reflected