"Morning," he nodded. "Headed for Mesa? Here, too."

He fell in with them and rode beside the girl. Presently they topped a
little hillock, and looked down into the park. It had about the area of
a mile, and was perhaps twice as long as broad. Wooded spurs ran down
from the hills into it here and there, and through the meadow leaped a
silvery stream.

"Hello! Wonder where that smoke comes from?"

It was Healy that spoke. He pointed to a faint cloud rising from a
distance. Even before he began to speak, however, Phyllis had her field
glasses out, and was adjusting them to her eyes.

"There's a fire there and a man standing over it," she presently
announced. "There's something else there, too. I can't make it
out--something lying down."

The men glanced at each other, and in the meeting of their eyes some
intelligence passed between them. It was as if the younger accused and
the older sullenly denied.

"Lemme have the glasses," Phil said to his sister almost roughly.

Healy glanced at Phil swiftly, covertly, as the latter adjusted the
glasses. "She's right about the fire and the man. I can see as much with
my naked eyes," he cut in.

The boy looked long, lowered the glasses, and met his friend's eye with
a kind of shamefaced hesitation. But apparently he gathered reassurance