the Silver Cup range. Take Jack with you. Brand all the cattle you can

before the snow flies. Get out of Dene's way if he rides over, and avoid
Holderness's men. I'll have no fights. But keep your eyes sharp for

their doings."
It was a relief to Hare that Snap Naab had not yet returned to the oasis,

for he felt a sense of freedom which otherwise would have been lacking.
He spent the whole of a long calm summer day in the orchard and the

vineyard. The fruit season was at its height. Grapes, plums, pears,
melons were ripe and luscious. Midsummer was vacationtime for the

children, and they flocked into the trees like birds. The girls were
picking grapes; Mother Ruth enlisted Jack in her service at the

pear-trees; Mescal came, too, and caught the golden pears he threw down,
and smiled up at him; Wolf was there, and Noddle; Black Bolly pushed her

black nose over the fence, and whinnied for apples; the turkeys strutted,
the peafowls preened their beautiful plumage, the guinea-hens ran like

quail. Save for those frowning red cliffs Hare would have forgotten
where he was; the warm sun, the yellow fruit, the merry screams of

children, the joyouslaughter of girls, were pleasant reminders of autumn
picnic days long gone. But, in the face of those dominating wind-scarred

walls, he could not forget.
That night Hare endeavored to see Mescal alone for a few moments, to see

her once more with unguarded eyes, to whisper a few words, to say
good-bye; but it was impossible.On the morrow he rode out of the red

cliff gate with Dave and the pack-horses, a dull ache in his heart; for
amid the cheering crowd of children and women who bade them good-bye he

had caught the wave of Mescal's hand and a look of her eyes that would be
with him always. What might happen before he returned, if he ever did

return! For he knew now, as well as he could feel Silvermane's easy
stride, that out there under the white glare of desert, the white gleam

of the slopes of Coconina, was wild life awaiting him. And he shut his
teeth, and narrowed his eyes, and faced it with an eager joy that was in

strange contrast to the pang in his breast.
That morning the wind dipped down off the Vermillion Cliffs and whipped

west; there was no scent of river-water, and Hare thought of the fatality
of the sheep-drive, when, for one day out of the year, a moistened dank

breeze had met the flock on the narrow bench. Soon the bench lay far
behind them, and the strip of treacherous sand, and the maze of

sculptured cliff under the Blue Star, and the hummocky low ridges beyond,
with their dry white washes. Silvermane kept on in front. Already Hare

had learned that the gray would have no horse before him. His pace was
swift, steady, tireless. Dave was astride his Navajo mount, an

Indian-bred horse, half mustang, which had to be held in with a firm
rein. The pack train strung out far behind, trotting faithfully along,

with the white packs, like the humps of camels, nodding up and down.
Jack and Dave slackened their gait at the foot of the stony divide. It

was an ascent of miles, so long that it did not appear steep. Here the
pack-train caught up, and thereafter hung at the heels of the riders.

>From the broad bare summit Jack saw the Silver Cup valley -range with
eyes which seemed to magnify the winding trail, the long red wall, the

green slopes, the dots of sage and cattle. Then he made allowance for
months of unobstructed vision; he had learned to see; his eyes had

adjusted themselves to distance and dimensions.
Silver Cup Spring lay in a bright green spot close under a break in the

rocky slope that soon lost its gray cliff in the shaggy cedared side of
Coconina.

The camp of the brothers was situated upon this cliff in a split between
two sections of wall. Well sheltered from the north and west winds was a

grassy plot which afforded a good survey of the valley and the trails.
Dave and Jack received glad greetings from Zeke and George, and

Silvermane was an object of wonder and admiration. Zeke, who had often
seen the gray and chased him too, walked round and round him, stroking

the silver mane, feeling the great chest muscles, slapping his flanks.
"Well, well, Silvermane, to think I'd live to see you wearing a saddle

and bridle! He's even bigger than I thought. There's a horse, Hare!
Never will be another like him in this desert. If Dene ever sees that

horse he'll chase him to the Great Salt Basin. Dene's crazy about fast
horses. He's from Kentucky, somebody said, and knows a horse when he

sees one."
"How are things?" queried Dave.

"We can't complain much," replied Zeke, "though we've wasted some time on
old Whitefoot. He's been chasing our horses. It's been pretty hot and

dry. Most of the cattle are on the slopes; fair browse yet. There's a
bunch of steers gone up on the mountain, and some more round toward the

Saddle or the canyon."
"Been over Seeping Springs way?"

"Yes. No change since your trip. Holderness's cattle are ranging in the
upper valley. George found tracks near the spring. We believe somebody

was watching there and made off when we came up."
"We'll see Holderness's men when we get to riding out," put in George.

"And some of Dene's too. Zeke met Two-Spot Chance and Culver below at the
spring one day, sort of surprised them."

"What day was that?"
"Let's see, this's Friday. It was last Monday."

"What were they doing over here?"
"Said they were tracking a horse that had broken his hobbles. But they

seemed uneasy, and soon rode off."
"Did either of them ride a horse with one shoe shy?"

"Now I think of it, yes. Zeke noticed the track at the spring."
"Well, Chance and Culver had been out our way," declared Dave." I saw

their tracks, and they filled up the Blue Star waterhole--and cost us
three thousand sheep."

Then he related the story of the drive of the sheep, the finding of the
plugged waterhole, the scent of the Colorado, and the plunge of the sheep

into the canyon.
"We've saved one, Mescal's belled lamb," he concluded.

Neither Zeke nor George had a word in reply. Hare thought their silence
unnatural. Neither did the mask-like stillness of their faces change.

But Hare saw in their eyes a pointed clear flame, vibrating like a
compass-needle, a mere glimmering spark.

"I'd like to know," continued Dave, calmly poking the fire, "who hired
Dene's men to plug the waterhole. Dene couldn't do that. He loves a

horse, and any man who loves a horse couldn't fill a waterhole in this
desert."

Hare entered upon his new duties as a range-rider with a zeal that almost
made up for his lack of experience; he bade fair to develop into a

right-hand man for Dave, under whose watchful eye he worked. His natural
qualifications were soon shown; he could ride, though his seat was awk-

ward and clumsy compared to that of the desert rangers, a fault that Dave
said would correct itself as time fitted him close to the saddle and to

the swing of his horse. His sight had become extraordinarily keen for a
new-comer on the ranges, and when experience had taught him the land-

marks, the trails, the distances, the difference between smoke and dust
and haze, when he could distinguish a band of mustangs from cattle, and

range-riders from outlaws or Indians; in a word, when he had learned to
know what it was that he saw, to trust his judgment, he would have

acquired the basic feature of a rider's training. But he showed no gift
for the lasso, that other essentialrequirement of his new calling.

"It's funny," said Dave, patiently, "you can't get the hang of it. Maybe
it's born in a fellow. Now handling a gun seems to come natural for some

fellows, and you're one of them. If only you could get the rope away as
quick as you can throw your gun!"

Jack kept faithfully at it, unmindful of defeats, often chagrined when he
missed some easy opportunity. Not improbably he might have failed

altogether if he had been riding an ordinary horse, or if he had to try