binger of gold in the
V of the pass, with its revelation of a dome of blue where unfathomable
space had been. For the first time daybreak interested her only in
broadening and defining her vision of her immediate surroundings.

When the permeating softness suddenly yielded to full transparency,
spreading from the fanfare of the rising sun come bolt above the range,
and the mist rose, she left the road at sight of two ponies and a burro
in a group, their heads together in drooping fellowship. She knew them at
once for P.D., Wrath of God, and Jag Ear. Nearby rose a thin spiral of
smoke and back of it was a huddled figure, Firio, preparing the morning
meal. Animals and servant were as motionless as the cactus. Evidently
they did not hear her footsteps. They formed a picture of nightly
oblivion, unconscious that day had come. Firio's face was hidden by his
big Mexican hat; he did not look up even when she was near. She noted the
two blanket-rolls where the two comrades of the trail had slept. She saw
that both were empty and knew that Jack had already gone.

"Where is Mr. Wingfield?" she demanded, breathlessly.

Firio was not startled. To be startled was hardly in his Indian nature.
The hat tipped upward and under the brim-edge his black eyes gleamed, as
the sandy soil all around him gleamed in the dew. He shrugged his
shoulders when he recognized the lady speaking as the one who had delayed
him at the foot of the pass the previous afternoon. Thanks to her, he had
been left alone without his master the whole evening.

"He go to stretch his legs," answered Firio.

Apparently, Sir Chaps had been disinclined to disturb the routine of camp
by telling Firio anything about the duel.

"Where did he go? In which direction?" Mary persisted.

Firio moved the coffee-pot closer to the fire. This seemed to require
the concentration of all his faculties, including that of speech. He was
a fit servant for one who took duels so casually.

"Where? Where?" she repeated.

"Where? Have you no tongue?" snapped Ignacio.

Firio gazed all around as if looking for Jack; then nodded in the
direction of rising ground which broke at the edge of a depression about
fifty yards away. Her impatience had made the delay of a minute seem
hours, while the brilliance of the light had now become that of broad
day. She forgot all constraint. She ran, and as she ran she listened for
a shot as if it were something inevitable, past due.

And then she ut