It was several days before Rob was able to get about as usual. His head ached when he tried to walk and his muscles were stiff and sore.

On waking the morning after he was hurt, he asked whether Jones had come back again. He seemed a little troubled to learn that he had not yet returned. When the next two days passed without bringing Jones, Rob became plainly disturbed.

"He might at least send me word if anything has gone wrong," he declared.

"Perhaps he's gone after more colts," Harry suggested. "He's sold a good many of those he had here, hasn't he?"

"About half of them; but he wouldn't bring in more—not now, anyhow."

"Why not?"

"Oh, because. He simply wouldn't."

Harry kept silent, for she saw that Rob did not want to say any more about the matter. He seemed so greatly worried over Jones's absence that she restrained her impulse to tell him about Garnett and his sorrel horse.

On the third day Rob got up and announced that he was going to work.

"The first thing you know the cattle will be coming in round here to feed, and if I don't get that extra strand of wire round my fence before they get here, my critters will be up and off with the others."

Harry's heart thumped. "I might as well tell you, Bobs. The cow is gone already."

"Hey?" Rob turned quickly and stared at her. He looked pale and thin now that he was standing. "When did the cow get out?"

"I don't know—exactly. The day you got hurt, I guess."

"She may be in Boise by this time. Did the heifers go, too?"

"No, they are all here."

"Thank goodness! Well, I'll get right out after the other beast. I've heard Dan say a dry cow is a mean critter to keep tabs on. Put me up a lunch, will you, sis, while I'm saddling the pony?"

"Bobs! You aren't going to start out to-day? In this hot sun?"

"The longer I wait the hotter it'll get and the farther I'll have to ride."

"Couldn't you send one of the Robinson boys?"

"And pay him two dollars a day? They couldn't go, anyhow. The whole family is busy irrigating and plowing for fall wheat. Don't worry, sis; that scratch on my scalp looks worse than it feels. I may find the cow right down along the creek."

Rob went up the glen to the pasture to get his saddle horse. He was gone a long time and came back looking much troubled.

"I don't understand it" he said. "The gate is open up there and all the colts are gone. My pony, too."

"Rob—who could have done it? Do you think they were stolen?"

"I don't think so. There's been no horse stealing round here since that gang was rounded up last spring—just when you came, you remember? No, I can't imagine what's happened unless Boykin opened the gate for spite. Do you know when he went out?"

"The day after he attacked you. I heard the sheep crossing the meadow in the morning when I was getting fresh water for you."

"Wait until I find Joyce! If he thinks I'm going to put up with such work he's mistaken. I'll have to ride old Rock. What will Jones say when he finds those colts are gone? And how can we ever round 'em up again?"

"It isn't your fault. Why doesn't he come and take care of his own stock?"

"Something's happened, I suppose. He wouldn't stay off like this for nothing. I ought really to go after the colts instead of the cow."

Rob went down to the corral, and soon Harry saw him riding back, not on Rock, but on the sorrel with the ring-and-arrow brand.

"I'd forgotten we'd left this horse down in the corral," he said, looking much relieved. "Well, now I shan't be gone a week, as I expected to if I rode old Rock."

Harry started to speak and then changed her mind; there could be nothing wrong in Jones's secrets about the horses if Rob did not disapprove of them. Doubtless there were plenty of sorrels with the ring-and-arrow brand, and after keeping this one so long for Jones, there could be no harm in Rob's getting some service from it.

So, instead of telling Rob about Garnett, she said, "That's a pretty good pony, isn't it? About how old is he?"

Rob had just mounted. "About six or seven years, I should think," he said, as he rode off.

He was gone all day, but he found neither the horses nor his cow.

"I'll go out to-morrow," he said at supper, "and stay until I find some of these strays."

"You—you won't come back at night?"

"Probably not. Why?"

"Nothing—much. That is, I only thought you might be able to go to town in a day or two. We need several things."

Harry twisted her fingers together and tried to control her voice. To have Rob stay away—to leave her all alone! She stood silent, looking up at him. She must not let him see that she was afraid, for she had determined never to complain again.

Nevertheless, she waited almost breathlessly for him to answer.

"All right, then," he said, after a moment. "I'll come back to-morrow night, and we'll go to town the day after."

As soon as Rob had ridden off the next morning, Harry began to put the tent in order and to arrange for the journey to town. She prepared a luncheon for the trip, washed a pair of overalls for Rob, got out a clean flannel shirt for him, and sewed a button on his coat. She had by this time learned to regard overalls as "dress-up" garments.

In the afternoon she went out to irrigate the garden. While she was cultivating at one end, a ditch broke at the other and let the water rush down across half the rows. She had hard work repairing the damage, and was so busy that she lost all track of time. In fact, she did not realize that the sun had set until a long-drawn melancholy howl from the butte, answered suddenly by a chorus from the "scab" land, told her that the coyotes were out for the night.

"Probably Bobs went farther than he realized," she decided, when at nine o'clock she sat down alone to eat her supper.

At ten o'clock Rob had not yet come. What could be keeping him? Had the pony stumbled and thrown him? Could he have had a sunstroke? Suppose he had fainted out there alone—without water——

Resolutely Harry turned from such thoughts. He had probably lost his way and would get home very late. She would be foolish to sit up for him.

She undressed very slowly, listening, hoping to hear the sound of the pony's hoofs; but soon she grew too sleepy to listen for them.

When she awoke it was broad daylight; the clock had stopped and Rob had not come. She went to the doorway and looked all round. The same silence, the same blaze of sunlight, the same solitude. Was it really another day? In the unbroken quiet everything seemed at a standstill. She did the chores and worked in the garden; but all the time she listened. And Rob did not come.

The day passed, and another night. She slept fitfully. Several times she thought she heard the beat of hoofs, and trembling with hope, hurried out to look. When the third day passed without bringing Rob, Harry knew that something had happened to him.

She sat beside the table in the evening with her head in her hand. She wished that it were not too late to go over and talk with Mrs. Robinson. She felt the instinct to lay her troubles upon some one else. Then she bethought herself and crushed down the impulse. The Robinsons were all busy with the haying. She had no right to call upon them for help, and moreover, she would be ashamed to do it. She must help herself. She would drive the twenty miles to Soldier, and send some one out to look for her brother.

When her alarm clock rang the next morning she hopped resolutely out into the chilly dawn, dressed, and got her breakfast.

No one who is used to handling horses can understand Harry's feelings as she lifted the heavy set of harness from the peg beside Rock's stall and dragged it over his back. She had watched her brother often as he harnessed the team, and remembered something about the way he had done it; but it was mostly by luck that she got the various straps into their proper places. Her heart beat nervously as she led the horses out of the corral and backed them up before the wagon. Suppose they should run away? But Rock and Rye were a steady team, and stood serenely while Harry fastened the tugs. It was only half-past seven o'clock when she left the ranch, but she felt as if she had already done a day's work.

She drove slowly at first, afraid that something would go wrong with the harness or that the horses would run away; but after the first few miles her spirits rose above her worries, and by the time she reached the Robinsons' ranch she was enjoying every moment of the ride.

As she passed the house Vashti burst from the door and, waving a letter, ran toward her.

"You want me to post this?" Harry asked, as she pulled up the horses.

"Oh, no! It's for you," Vashti said, and thrust the envelope into Harry's hand. "Hank Miller fetched it out from Hailey yestiddy."

"It's from Rob!" exclaimed Harry, and laughed with relief. Then, as her eyes flew down the sheet, her face clouded. The note read:

Dear Harry. I'm in the jug at Hailey. It's about those horses of Jones's. Bring that paper he gave me. It's a bill of sale. I stuck it up behind the clock on the shelf, next to the coffee grinder. Come over with it as soon as you can. Get one of the R. boys to tend the stock while you're gone.

Rob.

"'Tain't bad news, is it?" Vashti's voice broke Harry's dismayed silence.

"What? O Vashti, I must go to Hailey this minute. Can one of the boys tend the stock while I'm gone? Thanks ever so much. Which is the shortest way to Hailey? I suppose I must go by way of Soldier?"

"No. Cross the river by the lower bridge and then strike for the pike about Willow Creek." Vashti pointed eastward. "You'd ought to make it before dark if you hustle."

"How far is it? I don't know the road at all."

"You don't! Say! You want to watch for the big pillar butte. It's on the right where the road splits to go over the mountains. And say! Keep to the east whenever you hit a fork. Where are you going?" she added, as Harry turned the team homeward.

"I've got to go back and get a paper Rob wants."

"Say!" Vashti called after her suddenly. "Let me go for you. I can ride over there on Geezer and back while you're gettin' turned round."

Without waiting for an answer the little girl ran to the corral, led out the pony, flung a saddle over his back, shoved the bridle over his ears, and came back to Harry on the run.

"Now, where's your paper?" Vashti asked. "You go on toward the bridge," she continued, when Harry had told her where to find the bill of sale. "I'll come across the scab land and meet you."

With envy and admiration and gratitude in her heart Harry watched the small figure in red calico speed away across the sagebrush.

"If I could only go like that!" she thought with a sigh. "Well, I guess I'm not too old to learn, and if Vashti will teach me, maybe I can teach her something she'd like to know."

She had scarcely five minutes to wait at the bridge before Vashti came up with the precious paper. "You'll have to jack them there plugs up some if you're goin' to make it," the little girl remarked. "Wait. I'll get you a willer."

Slipping off her horse, she went down the bank of the river. In a minute she returned with a long, stout willow wand. "'Tain't so good as a blacksnake, but it'll make 'em step along some."

"Thank you, Vashti. If I do get there, it will be entirely owing to you!" Harry's words made the small girl smile with pleasure.

"It's just as Bobs said," Harry confessed to herself. "They're as kind-hearted and friendly as can be when you once know them, and all the 'education' in the world isn't as valuable out here as what they know."

As she drove along she kept thinking about the Robinsons, and of her own life on the ranch, and of Rob's present trouble. She was so busy with her thoughts that she did not notice the road, which meandered across the prairies without even a tree or a butte for landmark. This end of the prairie had never been laid off in ranches; it was too rough and too much broken by waves of lava that had at one time poured down through the valley. For miles there was no sign of human existence, no fence, no house, no cattle. The girl did not realize that she ought to be observing all the details that, in the desert, take the place of the signposts of civilized regions. She had grown drowsy with the monotony of the ride, but as the time passed, she glanced at the sun. It was getting low, and the pillar butte had not yet come into view. Feeling sure that she would see it after the next turn, she urged the horses to a trot; then suddenly she drew a sharp breath of dismay. The road had dipped into a small meadow sunk among the buttes, and ended. Harry pulled up the team and stared. Before her lay a long wooden platform. Tent pegs still stood in the ground, which was littered with camp leavings and piles of refuse wool. It was a shearing floor. She had taken the wrong road.

She sat still a moment, wondering what she had better do. She had no idea how far past the right turn she had come. The best plan would be to feed and water the horses here and then turn back. She ate her bread and bacon and drank from the canvas bag slung beneath the wagon; she envied 'Thello, who had promptly laid himself down in the shallow stream that oozed from the meadow.

As she drove back, she watched ahead for the place where the road branched, unaware that, on her way into the hills, she had passed not one but two forks of the road.

By degrees the ridges that inclosed the flats drew nearer. Great chimneys of lava, pillars and obelisks of red granite and blocks of iron-stained quartz crowded the road, which curved and swerved amongst them. Sometimes she drove beneath a threatening stone bridge; sometimes the wagon squeezed between tilted stone slabs; sometimes it bumped over a sharp descent of ledges. The rocks ahead took on weird, fantastic shapes that made them look like the ruins of a fire-swept city—long streets of toppling houses, palaces, towers, dungeons—lighted by the flames of the westering sun.

So hideously real was it that Harry found herself listening for the uproar of cries that would have been part of an actual fire. The silence made it more horrible, and in that silence she began to be afraid. She stopped the horses and sat still. She was lost.

She did not know which way to turn; once astray in this labyrinth of rocks, she might never be able to find her way out. The horses, thirsty and tired, stood with drooping heads. 'Thello, who lay at the roadside softly panting, glanced inquiringly up at her.

"Yes," she said, as if answering his question, "I've got to get out of here somehow. It's absurd. I must get out."

Keeping her eyes on the road, she slowly backed the horses. The sun was setting, and on the hard, thin soil that covered the bed rock, wagon tracks were hard to see. Watching the faint trail fixedly, leaning forward and urging the team on, she wound in and out among the rocks, until gradually they became more scattered, and lost their fantastic shapes.

When at last Harry saw the open road, she felt that the worst was behind her; but, nevertheless, she pulled up and looked slowly about. She was not sure in which direction she ought to turn, and she dreaded the thought of going down the caÑon alone in the dark. 'Thello pricked up his ears, stared ahead, and growled.

"What is it, boy?" Harry asked eagerly. "Run him out!" But the dog, growling softly, merely continued to listen.

With a sudden sharpening of her senses, Harry peered into the dusk. Perhaps some one who could help her was passing near by. She listened intently, with every nerve alert.

Suddenly she stood up in the wagon and screamed:

"Help! Help! Help!"

A clamor of echoes answered her ringing cries, and 'Thello challenged them furiously. The girl stood silent. As her voice struck back mockingly at her from barren butte and rock, she realized that she was helpless, and lonely, and afraid. Drawing a deep breath, she shut her hands tight. She would not give up to fear! Steadying her voice, she put all her strength into one more call:

"Help!"

"Coming!" A man's voice answered her.

The shout echoed her cry, a rattle of hoofs swept suddenly near, and Harry saw a horseman appear over the ridge. His figure rose and fell in silhouette as he galloped toward her. "It's Garnett!" Harry thought joyfully.

"Hello, what's doing?" he asked, as he pulled up. "Any one hurt? Who is it?"

"It's Harriet Holliday. I'm lost. I got over into those queer rocks and couldn't get out."

Garnett caught the quaver in her laugh. "Lucky I was riding through this way," he said. "That was the city of rocks you were in. How did you get out? Even fellows that know the country have got balled up in there and come pretty near cashing in before they struck the trail again."

Harry shivered. "I just made up my mind I had to get out, and kept my eyes on the wheel tracks until I found the open road again."

"You've got grit and sense, and you did well. Where are you heading for up here alone?"

"Hailey."

"Hailey! This time of night?" He dismounted and tied his horse to the back of the wagon; then he got into the seat beside her, took up the reins, and whistled to the team.

"Oh, will you really drive me?" Harry sighed in relief. Every tired muscle, every trembling nerve relaxed, and she leaned wearily back against the wagon seat.

"I started this morning," she explained. "I took the wrong turn somewhere. But this is the first time I've been out this way, and so it was easy to get lost."

"The first time! And you're alone!"

"Yes, my brother's in Hailey. That's why I'm going. He's in trouble. I don't know just what, but he sent for me to come."

Garnett made no answer, and they were both silent for some moments, while the team jogged on. Harry was wondering whether she ought to tell Garnett that Rob was in jail, when his voice made her start guiltily:

"Your brother been gone long?"

"Long? No; let's see. He started out after the cow—You didn't hear of her, did you?"

"Maybe it was yours some one was telling me about."

"I wonder whether it was ours? Perhaps Rob tried to take it and got into a squabble. And yet that isn't a bit like him."

"Was he afoot?" Garnett asked suddenly.

"Oh, no. On horseback. But it was a strange horse." She stopped.

"One of those you were telling me he was keeping?"

"Yes." In spite of herself her voice became self-conscious.

"Well, maybe some one thought it was his."

"Thought what?"

"Maybe that horse your brother was riding belonged to another fellow, and the other fellow pinched him for stealing it."

"What nonsense!" She laughed faintly.

"It's not nonsense to the fellow that thinks his critter was stolen," he replied.

"Of course not. I don't mean that, I mean the idea that my brother would steal a horse. You don't for a moment think he would, do you?"

"I don't pass judgment on people I don't know right well."

"But you know what sort of people we are. Do you think I would steal?"

"Maybe not."

Harry gasped. "You might as well say yes."

"If I saw you riding one of my horses, say, and I'd lost one, and you couldn't tell me where you'd got it, and wouldn't give it up, perhaps I'd think you stole it. Perhaps I'd run you into the jug until you could tell where you got it."

"And that's what you think has happened to Rob?"

"M-h'm!" he assented.

"What?" Harry's voice rang. She drew herself erect, and in the luminous darkness of the summer night the two in the seat of the jolting wagon stared at each other.

"Tell me," she demanded sharply, "tell me what you know—what you think!" And still staring at him, she waited for his reply.

"I know that your brother was riding my horse. I saw him on it."