had died away.

"Yes, better turn in, for you're most uncommon dull you know,"
Mizzoo replied frankly. "'Twould be just about as much company for
me if you'd hike out and leave me your picture to carry along."

Instead of taking the direction toward the river, the young man set
out at a gallop for the distant mountain range which, in the gloom,
seemed not far away. After an hour's hard riding, he reached it.
His impatience bad made that hour seem almost interminable, yet it
had not been long enough to furnish him with any clear reason for
having come. If, as Mizzoo had declared, he needed sleep, he would
surely not think of finding it near the cove from which his
companions had been warned under penalty of death. If drawn by
longing for another glimpse of the girl of the cove he could not
expect to see her an hour or two after midnight. Yet here he was,
attracted, and still urged on, by impulses he did not attempt to
resist.



CHAPTER X
THE FLAG OF TRUCE


Earliest dawn found the young man seated composedly upon one of the
flattened outcroppings of the bill of stone that lay like an island
between the outer plain and the sheltered cove. As yet, there was
no sign of life within the cove--both the dugout and the cabin of
cedar logs were as silent and as void of movement as the rocks