. It was, no doubt, those sweet shining faces,
wreathed with free artless smiles, that had caused the lady-killers to
unpack their portmanteaus.

My own eyes dwelt not upon these. Ever since our arrival upon the
ground, I had been watching with keen glances the opening that led into
the corral. Every one who came forth--man or woman--had been the object
of my scrutiny. But my glances had been given in vain; and were not
rewarded by the recognition of a single individual. The entrance was
about two hundred yards from the place where our tents were being
pitched; but even at that distance I should have recognised the colossal
squatter. As for Lilian, my heart's instinct would have declared her
identity at the most casual glance. Neither father nor daughter had yet
made their appearance outside the enclosure: though all the world beside
had come freely forth, and many were going back again. It was odd, to
say the least, they should act so differently from the others. She, I
knew, was very different from the "ruck" that surrounded her; and yet
one would have thought that curiosity would have tempted her forth--that
simple childlike inclination, natural in one so young, to witness our
wild attire--to gaze on our plumes and our paint? I could less wonder
at Holt himself being insensible to such attraction; but in her it
seemed strange. My astonishment increased, as form after form passed
out from the opening, but not that for which my eyes were searching. It
ceased to be astonishment: it grew into chagrin; and after that assumed
the character of an apprehension. This apprehension I had already
entertained, but in a less definite form. It now shaped itself into a
cruel doubt--the doubt of _her being there_--either inside the corral,
or anywhere in the Mormon camp!

After all, had we taken the wrong track? Might not Holt have kept on
with the gold-diggers? The story of the Chicasa signified nothing.
Might not Lilian, under the protection of that gallant dragoon, with the
torn tassel--might not she? "It is quite probable," I muttered to
myself, "highly probable that they are not here! The squatter may have
resisted the will of his Apostolic companion; and, separating himself
from the Mormon party, have gone on with the diggers? No! yonder! Holt
himself, as I live!"

The exclamatory phrases were called forth by the appearance of a tall
man in the opening between the waggons. It was Holt. He was standing
s