it-chains and spur-rowels, and the
creak of saddle leather. There _were_ horsemen in the valley, and the
horsemen were passing almost beneath her windows--and they were moving
stealthily.

For a moment her heart raced madly--the fancy of those conjured
horsemen, and then the mysterious sounds from the night that were not
fancy, combined in just the right proportion to overcome her with a
momentary terror. She realized that the sounds were passing--growing
fainter, and leaping from the bed, rushed to the window and peered
out. Only silence--profound, unbroken silence, and the moonlight. In
vain she strained her ears to catch a repetition of the faint sounds,
and in vain she peered into the dark shadows cast by the bunk house
and the pole horse-corral. Her windows commanded the eastern wall of
the valley, and its upper reaches. Had there actually been horsemen,
or were the sounds part of her vivid vision of the long ago? "No," she
muttered, "those sounds were real," and she leaned far out of the
window in a vain effort to catch a glimpse of the trail that led down
the creek toward Pierce's.

For some time she remained at the window and then, shivering, crept
back to bed, where she lay speculating upon the identity of these
horsemen who passed in the night. She knew that a horse raid had been
expected. Could these raiders have had the audacity to pass through
the very dooryard of the ranch, knowing as they must have known, that
four armed and determined cowboys occupied the bunk house?

And who were these raiders? At Thompson's she had heard Monk Bethune's
name mentioned in connection with possible horse-thieving. Bethune had
spoken of hurried trips, "to the northward." She remembered that upon
the occasion of their first meeting, she had heard him dickering with
Watts for the rent of his horse pasture, and she recollected the
incident of the changed name. Then, again, only a few days before, she
had parted with him when he struck off the trail to the eastward with
the excuse that he was going over onto the east slope on a matter
having to do with some horses. Bill had mentioned, in talking to Mrs.
Samuelson, that he had been riding through the horses on the east
slope. Could it be possible that the suave Bethune was a horse-thief?
On the other hand, Bethune had openly hinted that Vil Holland was a
horse-thief--and yet, these other people all believed that he was
persistently on the trail of the horse-thieves.

For a