ered the dense
thicket of oaks he was hard put to it to force a way through. But he
held his burden almost upright, and by slipping side wise and bending
the saplings he got in. Through sage and grass he hurried to the grove
of silver spruces.

He laid the girl down, almost fearing to look at her. Though marble pale
and cold, she was living. Venters then appreciated the tax that long
carry had been to his strength. He sat down to rest. Whitie sniffed at
the pale girl and whined and crept to Venters's feet. Ring lapped the
water in the runway of the spring.

Presently Venters went out to the opening, caught the horse and, leading
him through the thicket, unsaddled him and tied him with a long halter.
Wrangle left his browsing long enough to whinny and toss his head.
Venters felt that he could not rest easily till he had secured the other
rustler's horse; so, taking his rifle and calling for Ring, he set out.
Swiftly yet watchfully he made his way through the canyon to the oval
and out to the cattle trail. What few tracks might have betrayed him
he obliterated, so only an expert tracker could have trailed him. Then,
with many a wary backward glance across the sage, he started to round
up the rustler's horse. This was unexpectedly easy. He led the horse to
lower ground, out of sight from the opposite side of the oval along the
shadowy western wall, and so on into his canyon and secluded camp.

The girl's eyes were open; a feverish spot burned in her cheeks she
moaned something unintelligible to Venters, but he took the movement of
her lips to mean that she wanted water. Lifting her head, he tipped the
canteen to her lips. After that she again lapsed into unconsciousness or
a weakness which was its counterpart. Venters noted, however, that the
burning flush had faded into the former pallor.

The sun set behind the high canyon rim, and a cool shade darkened the
walls. Venters fed the dogs and put a halter on the dead rustlers horse.
He allowed Wrangle to browse free. This done, he cut spruce boughs and
made a lean-to for the girl. Then, gently lifting her upon a blanket,
he folded the sides over her. The other blanket he wrapped about his
shoulders and found a comfortable seat against a spruce-tree that upheld
the little shack. Ring and Whitie lay near at hand, one asleep, the
other watchful.

Venters dreaded the night's vigil. At night his mind was active, and
this time he had to watch and think and feel beside a dying