softly lowered himself. Hare wondered what the rustler meant to do.
Presently he again lifted his head and turned it as if listening

intently. His companions were motionless in deep-breathing sleep.
Gently he slipped aside his blankets and began to rise. He was slow and

guarded of movement; it took him long to stand erect. He stepped between
the rustlers with stockinged feet which were as noiseless as an Indian's,

and he went toward the cabin door.
He softly edged round the sleeping Holderness, showing a glinting

six-shooter in his hand. Hare's resolve to kill him before he reached
the door was checked. What did it mean, this rustler's stealthy

movements, his passing by Holderness with his drawn weapon! Again doom
hovered over the rustler chief. If he stirred!--Hare knew instantly that

this softly stepping man was a Mormon; he was true to Snap Naab, to the
woman pledged in his creed. He meant to free Mescal.

If ever Hare breathed a prayer it was then. What if one of the band
awakened! As the rustler turned at the door his dark face gleamed in the

flickering light. He unwound the lasso and opened the door without a
sound.

Hare whispered: "Heavens! if he goes in she'll scream! that will wake
Holderness--then I must shoot--I must!"

But the Mormon rustler added wisdom to his cunning and stealth.
"Hist!" he whispered into the cabin." Hist!"

Mescal must have been awake; she must have guessed instantly the meaning
of that low whisper, for silently she appeared ha the doorway, silently

she held forth her bound hands. The man untied the bonds and pointed
into the cedars toward the corral. Swift and soundless as a fitting

shadow Mescal vanished in the gloom. The Mormon stole with wary,
unhurried steps back to his bed and rolled in his blankets.

Hare rose unsteadily, wavering in the hot grip of a moment that seemed to
have but one issue--the killing of Holderness. Mescal would soon be upon

Silvermane, far out on the White Sage trail, and this time there would be
no sand-strip to trap her. But Hare could not kill the rustler while he

was sleeping; and he could not awaken him without revealing to his men
the escape of the girl. Hare stood there on the bench, gazing down on

the blanketed Holderness. Why not kill him now, ending forever his
power, and trust to chance for the rest? No, no! Hare flung the

temptation from him. To ward off pursuit as long as possible, to aid
Mescal in every way to some safe hiding-place, and then to seek

Holderness--that was the forethought of a man who had learned to wait.
Under the dark projection of the upper cliff Hare felt his way to the

cedar slope, and the trail, and then he went swiftly down into the little
hollow where he had left Bolly. The darkness of the forest hindered him,

but he came at length to the edge of the aspen thicket; he penetrated it,
and guided toward Bolly by a suspicious stamp and neigh, he found her and

quieted her with a word. He rode down the hollow, out upon the level
valley.

The clouds had broken somewhat, letting pale light down through rifts.
All about him cattle were lying in a thick gloom. It was penetrable for

only a few rods. The ground was like a cushion under Bolly's hoofs,
giving forth no sound. The mustang threw up her head, causing Hare to

peer into the night-fog. Rapid hoof-beats broke the silence, a vague
gray shadow moved into sight. He saw Silvermane and called as loudly as

he dared. The stallion melted into the misty curtain, the beating of
hoofs softened and ceased. Hare spurred Bolly to her fleetest. He had a

long, silent chase, but it was futile, and unnecessarily hard on the
mustang; so he pulled her in to a trot.

Hare kept Bolly to this gait the remainder of the night, and when the
eastern sky lightened he found the trail and reached Seeping Springs at

dawn. Silvermane's tracks were deep in the clay at the drinking-trough.
He rested a few moments, gave Bolly sparingly of grain and water, and

once more took to the trail.
>From the ridge below the spring he saw Silvermane beyond the valley,

miles ahead of him. This day seemed shorter than the foregoing one; it
passed while he watched Silvermane grow smaller and smaller and disappear

on the looming slope of Coconina. Hare's fear that Mescal would run into
the riders Holderness expected from his ranch grew less and less after

she had reached the cover of the cedars. That she would rest the
stallion at the Navajo pool on the mountain he made certain. Late in the

night he came to the camping spot and found no trace to prove that she
had halted there even to let Silvermane drink. So he tied the tired

mustang and slept until daylight.
He crossed the plateau and began the descent. Before he was half-way

down the vvarrn bright sun had cleared the valley of vapor and shadow.
Far along the winding white trail shone a speck. It was Silvermane

almost out of sight.
"Ten miles--fifteen, more maybe," said Hare. "Mescal will soon be in the

village."
Again hours of travel flew by like winged moments. Thoughts of time,

distance, monotony, fatigue, purpose, were shut out from his mind. A
rushing kaleidoscopic dance of images filled his consciousness" target="_blank" title="n.意识；觉悟；知觉">consciousness, but they

were all of Mescal. Safety for her had unsealed the fountain of
happiness.

It was near sundown when he rode Black Bolly into White Sage, and took
the back road, and the pasture lane to Bishop Caldwell's cottage. John,

one of the Bishop's sons, was in the barn-yard and ran to open the gate.
"Mescal!" cried Hare.

"Safe," replied the Mormon.
"Have you hidden her?"

"She's in a secret cave, a Mormon hiding-place for women. Only a few men
know of its existence. Rest easy, for she's absolutely safe."

"Thank God! ... then that's settled." Hare drew a long, deep breath.
"Mescal told us what happened, how she got caught at the sand-strip and

escaped from Holderness at Silver Cup. Was Dene hurt?"
"Silvermane killed him."

"Good God! How things come about! I saw you run Dene down that time here
in White Sage. It must have been written. Did Holderness shoot Snap

Naab?"
"Yes."

"What of old N.aab? Won't he come down here now to lead us Mormons
against the rustlers?"

"He called the Navajos across the river. He meant to take the trail
alone and kill Holderness, keeping the Indians back a few days. If he

failed to return then they were to ride out on the rustlers. But his
plan must be changed, for I came ahead of him."

"For what? Mescal?"
"No. For Holderness."

"You'll kill him!"
"Yes."

"He'll be coming soon?--When?"
"To-morrow, possibly by daylight. He wants Mescal. There's a chance

Naab may have reached Silver Cup before Holderness left, but I doubt it."
"May I know your plan?" The Mormon hesitated while his strong brown face

flashed with daringinspiration. "I--I've a good reason."
"Plan?-- Yes. Hide Bolly and Silvermane in the little arbor down in the

orchard. I'll stay outside to-night, sleep a little--for I'm dead tired-
-and watch in the morning. Holderness will come here with his men,

perhaps not openly at first, to drag Mescal away. He'll mean to use
strategy. I'll meet him when he comes--that's all."

"It's well. I ask you not to mention this to my father. Come in, now.
You need food and rest. Later I'll hide Bolly and Silvermane in the

arbor."
Hare met the Bishop and his family with composure, but his arrival

following so closely upon Mescal's, increased their alarm. They seemed
repelled yet fascinated by his face. Hare ate in silence. John Caldwell

did not come in to supper; his brothers mysteriously left the table
before finishing the meal. A subdued murmur of voices floated in at the

open window.
Darkness found Hare wrapped in a blanket under the trees. He needed

sleep that would loose the strange deadlock of his thoughts, clear the