sted there. Another five would
be passed at the first clear water. But allowing for the team's faster
gait when they were headed for home, and for twelve miles of downgrade,
they should not take more than four hours to reach the bend. Twilight
would be settling then.

Dallas figured the return thus--but it was soon plain to her that sunset
would find them miles from the shack. Poor feed, with the plowing and
the harrowing, had thinned the mules. After the first spurt, they paid
no heed to the whip, and fairly crawled. Marylyn, tired, gave way to
passionate complaining. Dallas folded a blanket in the bottom of the
wagon and coaxed her sister to lie down upon it, her face shielded by
the seat. To further dishearten the elder girl, Ben and Betty showed
signs of sore-footedness. Guided out upon the grass, they travelled
better.

It took three precious hours to gain the summit. The afternoon was then
far gone. Across the wide valley, dark clouds were piling upon the
western range; they added to its height, and augured the day's early
closing. When the Throat gaped alongside, the fleecy horizon had rolled
still higher, and beneath it the setting sun showed through like a
harvest moon, blood-red.

Swiftly the day withdrew and the stars came out. Then, the breeze
lulled, and a mist rose from the coulee's wooded bottom. From it came
the tremulous call of an owl. Dallas slipped to her feet and wielded the
black-snake vigorously.

The mules shot forward for a wagon-length. The sudden jolt awakened
Marylyn. She got to her knees--and there were the cottonwoods with the
laden boughs!

"Spunky little sister," encouraged the elder girl, and helped the other
to the seat.

The road was so dark, now, that it took on the aspect of a standing man,
who was no sooner overridden than he rose again in the lead. This was a
beginning for all manner of fears. Dallas fought her own. But she could
not conquer them. For they enlarged enormously, and changed to a
premonition that ran riot.

Listening and watching, she had suffered the previous night. Yet that
suffering was nothing compared to the agony that stole into her heart
and held it--till she forgot Marylyn's presence. She seemed to see a
figure skulking through the dusk about the shack; it entered the lean-to
and crouched in hiding. She saw it come forth again, keeping close to
the logs. Its eyes shone in the dark!

Her father was beside the door, where she had left him. He was gazi