s foot!" cried Mr. Hale, amazed.

"Huh! No, he couldn't. Kill you or Pedro. Kill that old horse of
yours, easy as scat. Can't kick low down as Keno. Huh! Guess I know
more about ostriches than you do," exulted Ned, in whose opinion the
stranger had now greatly fallen.

"Huh! Don't know about ostrichers!" echoed Luis, loyally, and was
rewarded by a friendly slap from his pattern and playmate.

Roused by the disturbance of his sheep, Pedro hurried to quiet them,
but, as he passed, fixed a piercing gaze upon the stranger's face. The
scrutiny seemed to partially reassure him, for he observed:

"Horse lame, Zulu gone, catch burro, yes. Let the feet which take the
trail be young, not feeble and unused. But to him who journeys with evil
in his heart evil will surely come. The widow and the orphan belong to
God. Indeed, yet. 'Ware, Antonio."

Mr. Hale reflected swiftly. He smiled at thought of his own long legs
bestriding the low back of the donkey, but a memory of that heated trail
down which he must pass to reach the nearest house, decided the matter.
While the small owners of the burro were improving the time of the
shepherd's absence to ransack his dwelling the sturdy little animal
bore its accustomed rider out of sight.

Meanwhile, Jessica's moccasined feet were flying down the slope, her
blue skirts and scarlet Tam making a moving spot of color against the
sandy glare of the canyon wall, and long before she came within hailing
distance catching the eyes of one who eagerly awaited her approach.

This was John Benton, the carpenter and general utility man at Sobrante;
who had come up the opposite side of the canyon, where were many huge
bowlders, a few trees, and no trail at all. Indeed, a passage along
that face of the gulch was difficult in extreme, and so dangerous that
it must have been serious business which brought a lame man thither.
Fortunately for his patience, the girl paused for breath at a point
level with his own narrow perch upon a shelving rock, and where there was
no great width of the V-shaped chasm.

"Lady Jess! Oh! I say! Miss Jessica! Lady Jess!"

The girl looked about her, up and down, everywhere save to the further
side where nobody ever went if it could be avoided. But she answered,
cheerily:

"_Hola!_ Coo'ee! Coo'ee! Who are you?"

The man made a trumpet of his hands and shouted back:

"The flume! Look east--to the flume!"

She followed his example and called through her own fingers: