uance of the storm, so that the distance between will remain
the same.

But then their tracks will be obliterated--every vestige of them. The
wind, the rain, and dust will do this. How is their trail to be taken
up? "That will be easy enough," says one, whose self-esteem is greater
than his prairie experience. He adds: "As they're going due west, we
can't make any mistake by steering the same way."

"How little he knows about it!" is the muttered remark exchanged between
Wilder and Cully. For they know that the deflection of a single point
upon the prairies--above all, upon the Staked Plain--will leave the
traveller, like a ship at sea without chart or compass, to steer by
guesswork, or go drifting at sheer chance.

To most, the consoling thought is that the Mexicans will halt near, and
stay till the storm is over. They have some baggage--a tent or two,
with other camp equipage. This is learnt from the Indian; and
Hamersley, as also Wilder, have themselves made note of it.

To the returning soldiers there can be no great reason for haste, and
they will not likely resume their march till the sky is quite clear.
Therefore they will gain nothing in distance.

Satisfied by such assurance given by the sager ones of the party, the
Rangers remain inside the hut, on the roof of which the rain dashes
down, without experiencing any keen pangs of impatience. Some of them
even jest--their jokes having allusion to the close quarters in which
they are packed, and other like trifles incidental to the situation.

Walt Wilder for a while gives way to this humour. Whatever may be the
danger of Don Valerian and the others, he does not believe his
sweetheart much exposed. The little brown-skinned damsel is not in the
proscribed list; and the ex-Ranger, strong in the confidence of having
her heart, with the promise of her hand, has less reason to be
apprehensive about the consequences. Besides, he is now in the midst of
his former associates, and the exchange of new histories and old
reminiscences is sufficient to fill up the time, and keep him from
yielding to impatient longing.

Of all Hamersley alone is unhappy. Despite the assurances spoken, the
hopes felt, there is yet apprehension for the future. The position,
however, is endurable, and only passes this point as a thought comes
into his mind--a memory that flashes across his brain, as if a bullet
had struck him between the temples.

It causes him to spring sudden