rough a forest of cedar and hemlock. Here
the wild birds were numerous and Allen was tempted to bring some of them
down with his gun, but Watson demurred.

"No use o' makin' too much noise," he explained. "Remember, somebody may
be on guard up at thet cave."

"Slavin said he thought only an old woman had been left in charge--a
woman who claimed to be Darry Nodley's wife."

"Didn't know as how thet rascal hed a wife."

"That is what Slavin said."

"It might be the truth, and then ag'in, it might not. We don't want ter
believe too much, Allen."

"I agree with you, Ike. But I think Slavin was really anxious to help us
after we did him that good turn."

The old hunter shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps; but I've seen too much
foul play in my time ter trust everybody. Thar may be a woman up thar,
an' thar may be some men-folks too."

So the talk ran on and they gradually drew closer to where the old
hunter had once seen the seven pine trees. To one not used to a life in
the open, to remember such a locality after two years' absence would
have been difficult, but it was not so with Ike Watson.

"Can't fool me on a thing like this," he said, flatly. "Onct I see a
place it hangs in my mind forever. Same way with a trail. Why onct I
struck a trail in the south o' the State, kind o' a mixed trail too. I
didn't see thet trail fer nigh onto six years, but when I did see it
ag'in I knew it jes' as quick as I clapped eyes on it."

"I believe you," replied the young ranchman. "You have an eye like a
hawk," and in that Allen was right.

The sun was sinking low in the west when they came out of a defile in
the rocks and the old hunter pointed to a valley on the opposite side of
the foothills below them.

"Do ye see them, over thar?" he questioned.

Allen gave a long look.

"I do--seven pines, sure enough!"

"Told ye I'd remember the spot!" cried Watson, triumphantly.

"But where is the cave?" went on the young ranchman.

"Like as not it's close by. Come, before the sun goes down an' it gits
too dark."

Soon they were making their way along the foothills at the lower side of
the mountain. They had to pass through considerable brush and while they
were doing this Watson suddenly halted and pointed to his side.

"What is it?" asked Allen, as he also halted.

"If thet ain't a putty fresh trail then I miss my guess."

"It does look fresh, Ike."

"Ain't over twenty-four hours old, nohow," went on the old hunter.
"Al