the train on his way home.

"The best of news. Reach the Rocking Chair tonight."

That was the message which had disturbed the serenity of big Webb
Mackenzie and had given to the motherly heart of his wife an unusual
flutter. The best of news it could not be, for the ranger had already
written them of the confession of Anderson, which included the statement
of the death of their little daughter. But at least he might bring the
next best news, information that David Henderson was free at last and
his long martyrdom ended.

So all day hurried preparations were being made to receive the honored
guests with a fitting welcome. The Rocking Chair was a big ranch,
and its hospitality was famous all over the Southwest. It was quite
unnecessary to make special efforts to entertain, but Webb and his wife
took that means of relieving the strain on them till night.

Higher crept the hot sun of baked Arizona. It passed the zenith and
began to descend toward the purple hills in the west, went behind them
with a great rainbow splash of brilliancy peculiar to that country Dusk
came, and died away in the midst of a love-concert of quails. Velvet
night, with its myriad stars, entranced the land and made magic of its
hills and valleys.

For the fiftieth time Webb dragged out his watch and consulted it.

"I wish that young man had let us know which way he was coming, so I
could go and meet them. If they come by the river they should be in
the Box canyon by this time. But if I was to ride out, like as not they
would come by the mesa," he sputtered.

"What time is it, Webb?" asked his wife, scarcely less excited.

He had to look again, so absent-minded had been his last glance at the
watch. "Nine-fifteen. Why didn't I telephone to Rogers and ask him to
find out which way they were coming? Sometimes I'm mighty thick-headed."

As Mackenzie had guessed, the party was winding its way through the Box
Canyon at that time of speaking. Bucky and Frances led the way, followed
by Henderson and the vaquero whom Mackenzie had telephoned to guide them
from Aravaipa.

"I reckon this night was made for us, Curly Haid. Even good old Arizona
never turned out such a one before. I expect it was ordered for us
ever since it was decided we belonged to each other. That may have been
thousands of years ago." Bucky laughed, to relieve the tension, and
looked up at the milky way above. "We're like those stars, honey. All
our lives we have been drifting aro