The moon appeared at last and suddenly all the desert lay before them like molten silver. They rose, stiffly, and Charley helped Roger to replace the little pack on Peter. Roger led, Peter followed and Charley brought up in the rear. For hours, they toiled slowly up into the range, flashing their "bugs" into the shadows, stopping now and again to go over rock heap or cactus clump carefully, then on again, neither of them speaking, even to Peter, except to call at irregular intervals Felicia's name.

Dawn found them high in the range, in a little canyon, sweet with a tiny spring about which grew mesquite and bear grass. The black ashes of old fires were there, but nothing else. Roger broke the silence of hours:

"We're both going to get a sleep here, then I'm going to take you home. We're way out of the reach of gun sound. They might have found her, you know."

They stood staring about them for a moment and listening. The unutterable silence of the desert was about them. Roger, eyes bloodshot, face unshaven, lips cracked, turned to Charley whose great eyes were sunk in her head, her lip colorless and drawn.

"Come," he said. "I'll cook the bacon and you unpack the rest of the grub. We simply haven't strength to get home without rest and food."

Charley had the remainder of the food ready for Roger when the bacon was cooked. They ate in silence, then Charley lay down on the pack blanket while Roger stretched out in a drift of sand beyond the spring. In utter weariness they both slept, unmindful of danger from snakes or vermin.

It was mid-morning when Roger woke. He sat up with a start and a sudden clear picture in his eyes of a spot in the desert where he had not searched. About a mile from the ranch and perhaps an eighth of a mile west of the trail at the base of the range was a little stone monument. Roger had observed it but it was too small to shelter even Felicia's small frame in its shadows, so he had not troubled to make a close observation of the flat desert round about it. The picture which had awakened him was an extraordinarily vivid one of this monument. He resolved to examine it thoroughly on his way home.

Roger rose stiffly. Charley was lying on her face, her head pillowed on her arm. He moved over and touched her on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Charley," he said, "but we'd better start back."

The girl sat up, slowly. "I wasn't asleep," she said. "I've just been napping off and on. I can't sleep until I know."

"Perhaps we'll find her safe at home," Roger even managed a smile with his broken lips.

"Let's not stop to eat again!" exclaimed Charley.

Roger nodded. They reloaded Peter who was well gorged on spring water and the uncertain looking herbage that grew about its brim.

The trail back was nearly all downward and they had covered it by noon. Roger told Charley of his strange awakening dream of which he made light, but when they sighted the little monument in the distance, they both hurried toward it.

It was there that they found Felicia. On the west side of the monument the prospector had begun a hole and left it. It was not over a foot in depth nor over three feet square. Too small to show in the vast levels of the desert until one was upon it and protected from view from the mountain because of the monument, tiny as it was, it was not too small to hold her little body, huddled face downward, arms and legs cramped.

Roger lifted her out and Charley, without a word, fainted. Roger groaned and covered his eyes for a moment, then he took the pack blanket and rolled the little body in it and left it while he turned to Charley. A part of the canteen of water poured gently over her face revived her. As soon as Roger saw that she was looking at him intelligently he said, sternly:

"Charley, you've got to brace up until we can get home. You must help me get you and her back by keeping as much of a grip on yourself as you can. Remember this is desert noon and we can't temporize. You mount Peter. We'll leave the pack here. I'll carry Felicia."

He took the shot gun from the pack and fired three shots into the air, followed by two more; the code that Ernest had suggested after the first night's hunt had led them to fear the worst. Then he lifted the little blanketed form across his breast and slowly led the way back to the ranch. He could not weep. He could not curse. He could only hope, blindly, that the volcano within him would not burst forth until his work was done.

Ernest met him a short distance from the ranch house, and took the little body from his arms, without a word. Roger turned back to Charley.

"I'm not coming up to the house just now," he said gruffly. "I'm afraid to see Dick."

Elsa, hurrying up to help her friend, tears streaming down her tired, pretty face, heard this:

"Don't try to see him, Rog, but you're not fit to go down to the camp yet. Lie down on the cot on the porch for a little while first."

Roger who was dizzy and staggering caught Gustav's arm. The good fellow had come panting up, uncertain what to say or do to show his sympathy and pain.

"Just for a few minutes then," panted Roger; "I don't want to see Dick for I'd kill him."

"No—don't vorry. I von't let you," said Gustav. "Come, lieber freund, take the steps mit slowness."

Roger dropped on the couch and Elsa and Charley went into the living room. Suddenly Dick shouted:

"Snake bite! On the ankle there! O God Almighty!"

Roger jumped to his feet and ran to the living-room door. Dick on an improvised crutch was staring down at the little form on the cot. Roger lunged for him with an oath, but Gustav caught Roger round the waist, and Charley, who had been sitting weakly in one of the camp chairs, her face bowed on the table, sprang forward, her eyes blazing.

"Don't you dare bring your hellish temper into this room of death, Roger Moore!" she said. "Supposing Felicia had seen you in one of your temper frenzies, mightn't she have run away from you just as she did from Dick?"

Roger stood as if paralyzed. Charley turned to Dick. "Fratricide!" she sobbed. "Murderer!" Then her voice rose hysterically. "Oh, why did I risk that little child to your weakness? Why? I killed her by it! I killed her!"

Elsa ran to put her arm about Charley. "Come, dear, come into the bedroom and let me talk to you."

Roger stood motionless for a moment, staring at the bedroom door which was closed in his face. Dick dropped into a chair with eyes closed, sweat pouring down his forehead and chin. Gustav gave Roger a tug and Roger allowed himself to be led back to the cot.

Here he lay for a few moments glaring up at Gustav who perched himself watchfully on the cot edge. Then he said hoarsely: "Is that true, Gustav, what Charley said about me?"

Gustav's honest face worked and his lips trembled. "Vell, you haf a bad temper, and she was a frightened little thing like a rabbit at a cross word."

Roger groaned and closed his eyes. He lay for a long time so silent that Gustav was sure he was asleep. The house within was very silent. Elsa came out onto the porch and spoke to Gustav, softly and Roger opened his eyes.

"It's all right, Gustav, old man," he said gently. "I won't touch Dick. Go on and do what Elsa wants and as soon as I've rested a bit, I'll help you."

"You'll feel better if you have some food, Roger." Elsa came round to the side of the cot where Roger could see her. She was carrying a bowl of milk and a plate of bread, which she placed silently on a chair beside him, then she and Gustav disappeared toward the tool house where Ernest already had gone.

Roger did feel better after he had cleaned the two dishes and he dozed a little.

He was roused by the sound of sawing and hammering from the tool house. A moment after Charley flew out the door and down the trail to the door of the little adobe shack.

"What are you all doing?" Roger heard her ask in a voice totally unlike her own, so shrill it was, and broken.

"Don't come in, Charley," cried Elsa. "Roger, come here."

Roger already was hurrying down the trail.

"You must take Charley down to the Plant and keep her there for awhile," Elsa said firmly, as Roger came up. "We'll tend to things here—she's reached her limit."

"Wait till I get Peter," replied Roger. He was back shortly with the little burro and Charley's broad hat. When the trembling girl mounted he walked beside her with a steadying arm over her shoulders. Her helplessness suddenly made her seem very like Felicia to him.

"We'll go right to the living tent," he said, quietly, "and you must try to rest while I get some supper."

"No! No! Don't leave me. I'm not hungry. I can't rest! I killed her, Roger, I killed her!"

"Nonsense! Booze killed her. Come, Charley, dismount, poor girl, and we'll turn old Peter loose," as they reached the camp.

Charley dismounted, then stood staring levelly into Roger's eyes. "I let my love for Dick kill her. I hate him now. Oh, how I hate him!"

"Don't talk about that," exclaimed Roger. "Charley, let's go into the living tent out of the sun."

They sat down side by side on one of the trunks. Roger had a vague notion that Charley would find relief if she could weep. But he had no notion of how to make her do so. He took one of her feverish, trembling hands in his and began talking at random.

"You are so like Felicia. You two always were getting confused in my mind and right now it's worse than ever. She loved me as much as I loved her. And now you'll have to try to be fond of me too, for her sake, Charley, and overlook my failings. You didn't kill her, my dear. She might have been bitten anywhere and at any time. Try to think of that. Why, you took wonderful care of her. Such care as never was on sea nor land, she used to say to me."

Felicia's familiar little phrase was too much for Charley. Suddenly she ran over to one of the cots and dropping there burst into tears. Then Roger, wiping the sweat from his face, left her while he went out to boil the tea kettle. When he returned in about half an hour, he was able to persuade Charley to drink a cup of strong tea and eat a cracker. The sun had set by the time she had finished, and she asked him to walk with her up and down the sand before the door.

How many hours he paced up and down in the hot darkness with Charley clinging to his arm, he could not tell. She did not cry again. Her agony of mind, like Roger's, was too deep for tears. She could only wring her hands and stumble back and forth like a hunted thing.

It was Roger's first experience in trying to assuage the grief of any one else. He discovered resources within himself of which he never before had dreamed.

"We were all to blame, Charley," he insisted again and again.

"No, the fault was mine! Oh, little, lovely Felicia! Roger, you must know that though I wouldn't let you strike Dick, I hate him! I hate him!"

"Good God, Charley! Let's not bring Dick in, to-night. We have our own private hell as he has his. Do you know that I'm realizing that what you said is right? That if Felicia had seen me again in one of my temper fits, it might have driven her away, just as this did. I'll never lose control of my temper again, Charley."

She did not answer except to groan. After a time, Roger said, "I'm thinking about Dick's wound. If it isn't attended to, soon, gangrene may set in. You and I had better drive him into town to-morrow."

"We'll not. He deserves to lose his leg!"

"Perhaps he does. But we aren't the ones to say so. Come into the tent, Charley, you are staggering and so am I."

Once more he led her into the tent where he lighted a "bug" and once more they sat down side by side on the trunk. Suddenly Roger put his arm about the girl and pulled her close against him, saying brokenly:

"Oh, Charley! Charley! You are so like her! Lean against me, dear, as she would, and we'll try to weather this together." And Charley, with a tremulous sigh, laid her soft cheek against his rough, unshaven one. They sat there until the tent was filled with the lovely gray of the filtered moonlight. Then Roger persuaded Charley to lie down. But when she had done so she clung to his hand.

"Stay with me, just a little bit longer," she whispered. Roger seated himself on the floor, clasping her hand closely. It was not long before Charley, still clinging to his hand, drifted off into uneasy slumber. Roger then leaned his tired head against the pillow and cramped as he was in his sitting posture, he dropped into a profound sleep.

Thus Gustav found them at dawn. His face was tear-stained but he smiled a little with a look that was full of pity and understanding. He tried to tiptoe out without a sound but a board creaked and Charley sat up, stared at him, then exclaimed:

"I must go up and dress her."

Roger clambered to his feet. Gustav came over to the cot and took Charley's hand in both his own.

"Miss Elsa haf dressed her, in the leedle vite dress and sash. And den, Miss Charley, you know how in so few hours Gott changes the bodies ve love so ve can't vish to haf them longer—so ve lay the little sister up on the mountain side last night, ven the moon came."

Charley sat staring at him with horror in her eyes, then when he had ceased speaking, she lay back and closed her eyes and the two men left her.

Later in the day, it was decided that Gustav must drive Dick, who was in great pain, into Archer's Springs to the doctor. Charley absolutely refused to see Dick or to offer any suggestions.

Just as the wagon with Dick perching on the cot at the bottom was ready to start for the camp Ernest called:

"Oh, Gustav, be sure to find out about the Smithsonian's visitor and wire to Washington the reason for our failure to meet him."

Roger, who was standing in the living tent, caught his breath. Through his grief for Felicia merged realization that his great opportunity had come and gone. For the first time in three days he turned to the engine house.