don't know. I did not see the person who did it. He saw me,
evidently. Perhaps, catching a glimpse of my campaign hat, he thought it
was you and shot at me. I let go at him, and we had it out. His second
shot hit me and my third hit him. How badly I don't know, but he
plainly had enough and got away without even picking up his rifle. It is
out there yet, unless he returned for it."

"Did you follow him?" asked Nora.

"A few yards only, then I got dizzy and had to sit down for a few
moments. That is all I know about it. I think we had better pack up and
move."

"I sincerely hope the next stopping place may be more peaceful than
those that have preceded it," said Miss Briggs.

"Please hurry, Washington," admonished Grace. "We have delayed much too
long, and if we do not make haste we shall not reach our day's objective
before dark. I don't fancy traveling here at night without a guide. Can
you find your way about in the night, Washington?"

"Yes'm."

"I doubt it," observed Emma.

Soon after that, Grace now feeling fit again, the Overlanders were
mounted and on their way, following a narrow trail, dodging overhanging
limbs, pausing now and then to consult their map, for they had found
that Washington could not be depended upon to guide them. He was useful,
but apparently was not overstocked with information about the mountains.

It was after seven o'clock that evening before they swung into a valley
that, according to the map, narrowed into a cut in the mountains,
through which ran a stream of sparkling water fed by equally sparkling
mountain rivulets that rippled down to it in silver cascades. The
Overland party was still riding under difficulties, for the trail was
narrow and, in some instances, overgrown. They were now looking for the
stream that the map indicated as being somewhere in the vicinity.

"Here's water," called Lieutenant Wingate, who was in the lead.

"Washington!" called Grace. "What is this stream?"

"Ah reckons it am watah," answered the colored boy, which brought a
laugh from the Overlanders.

"Laundry must have been 'con-centrating,'" observed Anne Nesbit.

"This may be Spring Brook," called Miss Briggs. "We shall have to take
for granted that it is."

"I think it is," answered Grace as they rode out into a fairly open
space and discovered the cut in the mountains through which the stream
was flowing.

The ponies already were showing their eagerness to wade into the water
and drink,