uishable when Patty awoke. She made a hasty
toilet, lighted the fire, and while the water was heating for her
coffee, delved into the pack sack and drew out a gray flannel shirt
which she viewed critically from every conceivable angle. She tried it
on, turning this way and that, before the mirror. "Daddy wasn't so
much larger than I am," she smiled, "I can take a tuck in the sleeves,
and turn back the collar and it will fit pretty well. Anyway, it will
be better than that riding jacket. It will look less citified, and
more--more prospecty." A few moments sufficed for the alteration and
as the girl stood before the mirror and carefully knotted her
brilliant scarf, she nodded emphatic approval.

Breakfast over, she washed her dishes and as she put them on their
shelf her glance rested upon the bits of broken rock fragments.
Instantly, her thoughts flew to the night before, and the feeling that
someone had been watching her. Rapidly her glance flashed about the
cabin searching a place to hide them. "They're too heavy to carry,"
she murmured. "And, yet," her eyes continued their search, lingering
for a moment upon some nook or corner only to flit to another, and
another, "every place I can think of seems as though it would be the
very first place anyone would look." Her eyes fell upon the empty
tomato can that she had forgotten to throw into the coulee after last
night's supper. She placed the samples in the can. "I might put it
with the others in the cupboard, but if anybody looked there they
would be sure to see that it had been opened. Where do people hide
things? I might go out and dig a hole and bury it, but if anyone were
watching--" Suddenly her eyes lighted: "The very thing," she cried:
"Nobody would think of looking among those old bottles and cars." And
placing the can in the pan of dish-water, she carried it out and threw
it onto the pile of rubbish in the coulee. Returning to the cabin, she
put on her father's Stetson, slipped his revolver into its holster,
and buckling the belt about her waist, gave one last approving glance
into the mirror, closed the door behind her, and saddled her horse.
With the bridle reins in her hand she stood irresolute. In which
direction should she start? Obviously, if she must search the whole
country, she should begin somewhere and work systematically. She felt
in the pocket of her skirt and reassured herself that the compass she
had taken from the pack sack was there. Her eyes swe