in and out with the deep curves of the gorge. Thus a mile, and the mouth
of the gorge was reached; before them stretched the sagebrush plain, dim,
vast, and vague. Stillman called a halt, saying, "We mustn't start
wrong, now; we must take the direction again."

He took a lantern and examined the ground for a matter of twenty yards;
then said, "Come on; it's all right," and gave up the lantern. In and
out among the sage-bushes he marched, a quarter of a mile, bearing
gradually to the right; then took a new direction and made another great
semicircle; then changed again and moved due west nearly half a mile--and
stopped.

"She gave it up, here, poor little chap. Hold the lantern. You can see
where she sat."

But this was in a slick alkali flat which was surfaced like steel, and no
person in the party was quite hardy enough to claim an eyesight that
could detect the track of a cushion on a veneer like that. The bereaved
mother fell upon her knees and kissed the spot, lamenting.

"But where is she, then?" some one said. "She didn't stay here. We can
see that much, anyway."

Stillman moved about in a circle around the place, with the lantern,
pretending to hunt for tracks.

"Well!" he said presently, in an annoyed tone, "I don't understand it."
He examined again. "No use. She was here--that's certain; she never
walked away from here--and that's certain. It's a puzzle; I can't make
it out."