k her head, with an odd expression growing upon her
face--anxiety, distress, just what Lee could not exactly decide. But
as she made no explanation, he gave her a hand and swung her upon
Dick, after which he handed her the reins and advanced the hope that
she should arrive home without further misadventure.

She made no move to depart, however, but sat regarding the engineer.

"I was at your house," she stated, finally.

"To see me?"

"To find you, or someone, who could help me. When my horse went lame
near the ford, I found that he had picked up a stone which I couldn't
remove. So I led him to your house, seeking assistance. When I reached
there----"

She stopped in her recital, compressing her lips and gazing off across
the sagebrush.

"Well?" the engineer encouraged.

"When I reached there, I heard a dog whining."

Bryant stiffened.

"I left my dog Mike behind," said he.

"The sound was really more like a moaning," she went on. "At first I
could see nothing, but when I looked everywhere I found that it came
from one of the three cottonwood trees. Somebody had hurt him, and the
poor creature was suffering terribly. I--I can hardly tell what had
been done to him!" And she shuddered.

"Mike! They've killed my dog Mike!"

"They nailed him to a cottonwood tree. A nail through each leg. A
nail through his throat. Nails through his body. They had crucified
him. And, oh, his pitiful eyes!"

Lee Bryant stood perfectly still and quiet. Dave was frozen and
horrified. Both gazed fixedly across the mesa to where the cottonwoods
could be seen.

"Is Mike alive yet?" Bryant asked presently, in an unsteady voice.

"No; not now. I found a piece of iron and hammered the nails free.
Then I lifted him down and carried him to the creek and washed his
wounds. But he died. I see his eyes yet, looking up at me." For a
little she was overcome. Then she resumed, "When he was dead, I
carried him up to your door, for I knew you must have loved him."

Bryant glanced up at her.

"Mike would know you were a friend," he said.

She nodded and reined Dick about. Leading the other horse, she rode
away through the sunshine that burnished the mesa.

CHAPTER VIII

July passed. Followed August, with days likewise hot and unvarying
except for a scarcely appreciable retardation of dawn. Perro Creek now
showed no water at all in its shallow bed; the garden planted by the
Stevensons was long dried up; the sagebrush was dustie