head was turned a little, his ear to the wind. He was listening. His
horse was listening. Suddenly he straightened up, wheeled his horse,
and trotted away into the darkness. But he did not climb the ridge
down which he had come.

Shefford heard the click of hoofs upon the stony trail. Other horses
and riders were descending into the canyon. They had been the cause of
his deliverance, and in the relaxation of feeling he almost fainted.
Then he sat there, slowly recovering, slowly ceasing to tremble,
divining that this situation was somehow to change his attitude
toward life.

Three horses, two with riders, moved in dark shapes across the skyline
above the ridge, disappeared as had Shefford's first visitor, and
then rode into the light. Shefford saw two Indians--a man and a woman;
then with surprise recognized the latter to be the Indian girl he had
met at Red Lake. He was still more surprised to recognize in the third
horse the one he had lost at the last camp. Shefford rose, a little
shaky on his legs, to thank these Indians for a double service. The
man slipped from his saddle and his moccasined feet thudded lightly.
He was tall, lithe, erect, a singularly graceful figure, and as he
advanced Shefford saw a dark face and sharp, dark eyes. The Indian
was bareheaded, with his hair bound in a band. He resembled the girl,
but appeared to have a finer face.

"How do?" he said, in a voice low and distinct. He extended his hand,
and Shefford felt a grip of steel. He returned the greeting. Then
the Indian gave Shefford the bridle of the horse, and made signs that
appeared to indicate the horse had broken his hobbles and strayed.
Shefford thanked him. Thereupon the Indian unsaddled and led the