the mountain range, following its curves with cautious feet as if
fearful of discovery. It was a young man of twenty-one or two,
bronzed, free of movement, agile of step. His face was firm,
handsome and open, although at present a wish to escape observation
caused the hazel eyes to dart here and there restlessly, while the
mouth tightened in an aspect of sternness. This air of wild
resolution was heightened by the cowboy's ordinary gannents, and the
cowboy's indispensable belt well-stocked with weapons.

On reaching the spur that formed the western jaw of the horseshoe,
he crept on hands and knees, but satisfied by searching glances that
the inner expanse was deserted, he half rose and stole shadow-like
along the granite wall, until he had reached the hill-island that
concealed the cove. Again falling on hands and knees, he drew
himself slowly up among the huge flat rocks that covered the hill
in all directions. In a brief time he had traversed it, and a view
of the cove was suddenly unrolled below. A few yards from Brick
Willock's dugout, now stood a neat log cabin, and not far from the
door of this cabin was a girl of about fifteen, seated on the grass.

She had been reading, but her book had slipped to her feet. With
hands clasped about her knee, and head tilted back, she was watching
the lazy white clouds that stretched like wisps of scattered cotton
across the blue field of the sky. At first the young man was
startled by the impression that she had discovered his presence and
was scrutinizing his position, but a second glance reassured him,
and he stretched himself where a block of granite and, below it, a
cedar tree, effectually protected him from discovery. Thus hidden,
he stared at the girl unblinkingly.