at the unintelligible line, and then at the two
photographs. One, taken evidently from a point well up the side of a
hill, showed a narrow valley, flanked upon the opposite side by a high
rock wall. Toward the upper end of the wall an irregular crack or
cleft split it from top to bottom. The other was a "close up" taken at
the very base of the cleft, and showed only the narrow aperture in the
rock, and the ground at its base. For a long time she sat studying the
photographs, memorizing every feature and line of them; the
conformation of the valley, the contour of the rock wall, the position
and shapes of the trees and rock fragments. "That must be the mine,"
she concluded, at length, "right there at the bottom of that crack."
She closed her eyes and conjured a mental picture of the little
valley, of the rock wall, and of the cleft that would mark the
location. "I'd know it if I should see it," she muttered, "let's see:
big broken rocks strewn along the floor of the valley, and a tiny
creek, and then the rock cliff, it must be about as high as--about
twice as tall as the trees that grow along the foot of it, and it's
highest at the upper end, then there's a big tree standing alone
almost in the middle of the valley, and the gnarled, scraggly trees
that grow along the top of the rocks, and the valley must be as wide
as from here to that clump of trees beyond my wood-pile--about a
block, I guess. And there's the big crack in the cliff that starts
straight," she traced the course of the crack with her finger upon the
table top, "and then zigzags to the ground." Her glance returned to
the map, and she frowned. "I don't think that's a bit of good to me.
But I don't care as long as I have the photographs. I'll just ride,
and ride, and ride through these hills till I find that valley, and
then--" The little clock on the shelf beside the mirror ticked loudly.
Her thoughts strayed far beyond the confines of the little cabin on
Monte's Creek, as she planned how she would spend the golden stream
that was to flow from the foot of the rock ledge.

Gradually her vision became confused, the incessant ticking of the
little clock sounded farther, and farther away, her head settled to
rest upon her folded arms, and she was in the midst of a struggle of
some kind, in which a belted cowboy and a suave, sloe-eyed
quarter-breed were fighting to gain possession of her mine--or, were
they trying to help her locate it? And what was it daddy was