s silent. It was the
wilderness in reality as well as seeming; nowhere did they see a miner's
hut or a hunter's cabin, only nature in her most savage form.

The little group of horsemen forgot to talk. The candidate's head was
bowed and his brow bent. Clearly he was immersed in thought. Mr.
Heathcote, unused to such arduous journeys, leaned forward in his saddle
in a state of semi-exhaustion. But Sylvia, although a girl, was
accustomed to the mountains, and she showed few signs of fatigue. Harley
said at last to the guide, "A wild country, one of the wildest, I think,
that I ever saw."

"Yes, a wild country, and a bad 'un, too," responded Jim. "See off there
to the left?"

He pointed to a maze of bare and rocky ridges, and when he saw that
Harley's gaze was following his long forefinger, he continued:

"I say it's a bad 'un, because over there Red Perkins and his gang of
horse-thieves, outlaws, and cut-throats used to have their hiding-place.
It's a tangled-up stretch o' mountain, so wild, so rocky, so full of
caves that they could have hid there till jedgment-day from all
Montana. Yes, that's where they used to hang out."

"Used to?"

"Yes, 'cause I 'ain't heard much uv them fur some time. They came down
in the valley and tried to stampede them new blooded horses from
Kentucky on Sifton's ranch, but Sifton and his men was waitin', and when
the smoke cleared off most uv the gang was wiped out. Red and two or
three uv his fellers got away, but I 'ain't heard uv 'em since. Guess
they've scattered."

"Wisest thing they could do," said Harley.

The guide made no answer, and they plodded on in silence until about two
o'clock in the afternoon, when they stopped in a little cove to eat
luncheon and refresh their horses.

It was the first grateful spot they had seen in hours. A brook fed by
the snows above formed a pool in the hollow, and then, overflowing it,
dropped down the mountain-wall. But in this sheltered nook and around
the life-giving water green grass was growing, and there was a rim of
goodly trees. The horses, when their riders dismounted, grazed eagerly,
and the riders themselves lay upon the grass and ate with deep content.

Sylvia talked little. She seemed thoughtful, and, when neither of them
was looking, she glanced now and then at Harley and "King" Plummer. Had
they noticed they would have seen a shade of sadness on her face. Mr.
Plummer did not speak, and it was because there was a growing anxiet