creeping shadows or waving branches. Once, in the rising wind, the empty
hat rolled over--but only in a ludicrous, drunken way. A search for any
further sign or token had proved futile, and Cass grew impatient. He
began to hate himself for having stayed; he would have fled but for
shame. Nor was his good humor restored when at the close of a weary half
hour two galloping figures emerged from the dusty horizon--Hornsby and
the young girl.

His vague annoyance increased as he fancied that both seemed to ignore
him, the coroner barely acknowledging his presence with a nod. Assisted
by the young girl, whose energy and enthusiasm evidently delighted him,
Hornsby raised the body for a more careful examination. The dead man's
pockets were carefully searched. A few coins, a silver pencil, knife,
and tobacco-box were all they found. It gave no clew to his identity.
Suddenly the young girl, who had, with unabashed curiosity, knelt
beside the exploring official hands of the Red Chief, uttered a cry of
gratification.

"Here's something! It dropped from the bosom of his shirt on the ground.
Look!"

She was holding in the air, between her thumb and forefinger, a folded
bit of well-worn newspaper. Her eyes sparkled.

"Shall I open it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"It's a little ring" she said; "looks like an engagement ring. Something
is written on it. Look! 'May to Cass.'"