ng at one of the gates of the corral upon the third morning
following Linton's departure, Harlan considered this phase of the
situation. He felt the hidden threat of something sinister that lurked in
the atmosphere.

It was all around him. It seemed to lie secreted in the yawning space
that engulfed the Rancho Seco--south, north, and east. From the haze that
stretched into the unending distance westward it seemed to come, bearing
its whispered promise. The solemn hills that flanked the wide stretches
of Sunset Valley seemed to hint of it--somberly.

Mystery was in the serene calm that seemed to encompass the big basin;
from the far reaches westward, in the misty veil that seemed to hang from
the far-flung shafts of sunlight that penetrated the fleecy clouds, came
the sinister threat--the whole section seemed to pulse with it.

And yet Harlan knew there could be no mystery except the mysteries of
men. Nature was the same here as in any other section of the world, and
her secrets were not more profound than usual.

He grinned mirthlessly at the wonderful basin, noting that the Rancho
Seco buildings seemed to lie on a direct line with its center; that the
faint trail that ran through the basin--the trail men traveled--came on
in its undulating way straight toward the Rancho Seco ranchhouse, seemed
to bring the mystery of the big basin with it; seemed to be a link that
connected the Rancho Seco with the promise of trouble.

That impression might have engaged the serious thoughts of some men. It
widened the smile on Harlan's face. For he knew there was no threat in
the beauty of the valley; that it did not hide its secrets from the
prying eyes of men. Whatever secret the valley held was in the minds of
men--the minds of Deveny and the mysterious "Chief," and their followers.

Harlan had not absented himself from the ranchhouse since the departure
of Linton. He had lounged in the vicinity of the buildings during the
day--and Barbara had seen him many times from the windows; and he had
spent his nights watching the ranchhouse, half expecting another attack
on Barbara.

The girl had seen him at night, too; and she had smiled at the picture he
made with the moonlight shining upon him--or standing in some
shadow--somber, motionless, undoubtedly guarding her.

She saw him this morning, too, as he stood beside the corral gate, and
there was a glow in her eyes that, had he seen it, might have thrilled
him with its gratitude.