For a minute they jogged on in silence. Then, in a voice that was clear with scorn, Harry said:

"So you sent my brother to jail just for riding your miserable old horse!"

But although her voice was cold and hard, there was a note of fatigue and distress in it that Garnett was quick to understand. He flushed hotly, and a wave of sympathy for the girl swept over him. Those few indignant words of hers made him certain that she knew no more who the real horse thief was than he did himself. She was just what she had appeared that first time in the train—a sweet, gay, warm-hearted little girl, amusingly ignorant of everything Western!

"I reckon you think hanging's too good for me," he said. Harry did not answer, and in a moment he went on. "It's like this. My job is up in the reserve—keeping tabs on everything that goes on up there in the timber, where the sheep and cattle men take their herds in summer. You can see I wouldn't keep my job long if I was to believe everything fellows tell me about how honorable and noble-minded they are. I'm deputy sheriff, too—have to be in case of trouble, we're so far from town. I was running down one of those Bascoes when that pony of mine disappeared. I traced it out to the Boise base line,—this road we're on now—when I met a fellow that saw him traveling this way in a string of colts. I was on his trail when I struck your place. You see, I was kind of suspicious about that 'boarding' yarn, and yet I didn't see, honestly, how you could frame up a tale like that yourself."

"Why didn't you come back the next day and ask my brother about your horse?"

"That's what I meant to do; but I got word to go back to the reserve quick. The sheep were coming in, and I didn't have another chance to get down here until the day I met your brother hunting his cow. He had my horse, and I thought the best thing to do was to give him a chance to explain to Judge Raeburn. That's the way of it."

There was a long, strained silence. Garnett had never been so uncomfortable and unhappy in his life. Here he was, showing himself in the worst possible light to the nicest girl he had ever met.

The road, which was cut out of the side of the cliff, was steep and barely wide enough for the team. On one side was the frowning mountain wall, on the other the black abyss. Harry felt the horror of it; but when she looked up into the clear, serene sky she forgot her fear. She felt round her the splendor and immensity of the night and the wilderness, and her annoyances, her troubles and worries, slowly faded away. A delightful sense of rest came upon her. She realized how much she owed to Garnett for coming to her aid as he had done, and she was trying to think of something friendly to say to him, when he spoke.

"I hope you ain't a-cussing me still?" he said with gruff earnestness. "I'm sorry."

"No, indeed," Harry answered quickly. "You couldn't help it. But I wish Rob had never gone in with that fellow Jones—the one he's boarding the horses for. Sometimes I almost hate Jones. He's taken Rob away from me. I meant to have such a good time out here, but one thing after another has gone wrong. Part of it was my fault, I know."

And she told him the whole story of the affair with the sheep herder, how she had insisted upon keeping 'Thello and had refused to file on the homestead, of the herder's attacking Rob, and of the mysterious disappearance of the colts, and Rob's pony, and the cow.

"And if I'd done as Bobs wanted me to, all these troubles would never have happened."

"Oh, now, you mustn't talk that way. Nobody lives that ain't meeting up with something all along the trail. Might be you'll get you a homestead somewhere that you'll like a whole heap better than the one you lost."

"It isn't that. It's because Rob wanted us to have them together. The sheep couldn't have come in then; and now, since Joyce has filed on that place, his sheep will eat out all the grass and ruin the grazing for our cattle. So you see it is all my fault."

"I wouldn't say that, now. I might say it was mine, because I hadn't any business to lose my horse; but I ain't saying it. Things happen, that's all. And it's as likely to turn and happen right for you as it did the other way. We ain't ready to call this job off yet. Looks now as if your brother wasn't a horse thief, after all; and as he ain't, it looks up to me to get him out of the jug."

"I wish, when you have got him out, that you would put that sheep herder in. Running the horses off! As if he hadn't already done enough in beating Rob the way he did! I'd like to show that old Joyce, too, that he can't have all the grass, even if his herder has filed on the homestead next to ours."

"I reckon there wouldn't be much trouble running in the herder. The law's got a plain case against him—assault and trespass; but it's Joyce that ought to get jugged first."

"Joyce!"

"Sure. He's got fifty more homesteads than he has any right to."

"Yes, that's what Dan Brannan told us," Harry said slowly. "But no one can prove anything against him, and you could make his herder have some regard for our rights."

"I'll do that, anyhow. I'll hunt him out as soon as I get back to the range. What sort of a looking fellow is he?"

"Big and heavy-looking, yet rather handsome, in a way. Looks like a spoilt, sulky child.

"Not a Mex?"

"Oh, no. That's what makes it seem so much worse."

"Name Hunter?"

"No, Boykin."

"Boykin? Are you dead certain? There's one of Joyce's herder's that's this fellow's twin brother, if he ain't closer still—the meanest man that ever followed a bunch of woollies—but his name's Hunter. I've got him in the jug right now, too."

"Oh, if it only were Boykin!"

"I'll look him up," Garnett said. He was silent for a moment, and then he exclaimed:

"Say, I want you or your brother to take a look at that fellow Hunter to-morrow! It's got into my head that he and your man Boykin favor each other a whole lot more than they'd ought to."

"I don't see that it makes any difference how much alike they look," Harry said.

Garnett chuckled. "It might make a whole lot of difference to you."

"How?"

He was silent a moment. "If you'll excuse me ma'am, I reckon I'd better not say too much until you've had a peek at Hunter."

Harry did not urge him to explain, and when they began to talk again it was of other things. Harry told Garnett about her life back East, and about her comradeship with Rob in the old days: she told him, too, how disappointed Rob was because she did not like the West as he had hoped she would. She admitted that she had not tried very hard to like it.

As they drove on through the darkness they chatted freely, and exchanged the simple confidences that lay the foundation for a true friendship.

At last they left the caÑon and rumbled over the hard, smooth road toward town. Little by little the lights of Hailey grew brighter, and at last the wagon drove under the big blue arc light on the edge of the town. It was Saturday night, and all the stores were open; the streets were crowded with people.

Garnett proposed that they should go first to the hotel and have some supper; but Harry was almost nervously eager to give Rob the paper she had brought to him, and so Garnett acquiesced.

"I reckon I'd better go along," he said. "It's after hours for visitors, but as deputy sheriff I can fix it up. And I'd like to see your brother myself. If he'll give me the straight story of this affair, I reckon I can straighten things out pretty quick."

Harry's heart beat unevenly as she followed Garnett up the steps of the jail and into the office. The dreary room, lighted by the glaring electric light, meant something indescribably mean and shameful to her. Her heart sank as she waited for Garnett to attend to certain necessary formalities. When Pedersen, the big Swede jailer, stared at her in smiling, stupid curiosity, she was thankful for the protection of Garnett's presence.

Garnett let Harry go to her brother's cell alone. As the door clicked, the light flashed up and flooded the narrow, whitewashed room. Rob turned from the window where he had been standing.

"Hello, sis!" he said listlessly. "Just get in?"

"Bobs, dear! You poor thing! Isn't this horrible?" She ran to him, slid her hand through his arm and kissed him.

"You look as if you had been ill!" she exclaimed, looking up at him anxiously.

"I do feel seedy." He passed a hand over his unshaven cheek and glanced down at his rumpled clothes. "Being shut up here without a change of clothes for several days is the limit. Did you bring that bill of sale?"

"Yes, here it is." She handed him the paper. Rob glanced at it, and then put it into his pocket. "If I'd only had that along the other day when that chump pinched me! Smarty! I'd like to have him fined for false arrest—putting me in here!"

"Why, Bobs! He didn't know you were all right. He'd never seen you before. He had to do it; but he's awfully sorry."

"He is? How do you know?"

"He told me so. He drove me over here. If it hadn't been for him, I'd probably be wandering round in the hills or lying at the bottom of that awful caÑon on the edge of the road." She went on to tell him about her journey and her talk with Garnett. "He's outside now, Bob," she said, a little timidly, for Rob's face had darkened. "He wants to see you and have you tell him who Jones is and where he got those horses."

"I don't want to see him. And I've nothing to say about Jones."

"But, Bobs, if you don't tell how Jones came to have Garnett's horse, they'll simply hunt up Jones and make him tell. Won't you see Garnett? I've already convinced him that you were only boarding the colts for Jones, and Garnett's really our friend now, only of course he wants to clear this matter up. I wish you'd talk frankly with him, Rob, dear."

"I like that! Maybe he's forgotten I tried to explain things the day he ran me in."

"But you didn't tell him where Jones got his horse. He's going out to-morrow to hunt up Jones and bring him here to prove that those horses are his."

"But they're not. They're mine."

"Yours!" Harry cried, falling back a step.

"That's what this bill of sale is. I bought every one of those colts from Jones."

"But, Rob, where did Jones get Garnett's horse? He never sold it."

"Don't ask me. There comes Pedersen. You'll have to go now."

"And you won't see Garnett? Please, Rob! He's really our friend. Oh, yes, and another thing. I was telling him about that herder, Boykin, and he says my description of him exactly fits a herder of Joyce's named Hunter, who is in jail here. I think Garnett suspects that they are the same man, and he seems to think it may make a lot of difference to us. I don't quite see how, do you?"

Rob's expression changed. "It would make a lot of difference to me to know that Boykin was in the jug."

"Oh, it was some bigger difference than that. He didn't want to tell me about it until he was sure, but maybe he would tell you."

Rob laughed. "Aren't you ingenious, miss? Not till morning, anyway. Maybe I'll talk to him then, unless Raeburn gets home first. If I can only see the judge for five minutes, he'll probably dismiss the case against me without another word."

Garnett looked up eagerly when Harry entered the office. "He didn't want to see me?" he asked.

"He will in the morning." She blushed faintly, but still faced him with frank eyes.

"Well, let's go. You're all in. It's nearly midnight, do you know it? And you haven't had a square meal all day."

"I'm not a bit hungry, but I am sleepy, most horribly sleepy."

She yawned and laughed at the same time.

As they went out into the street, Harry drew a deep breath and lifted her face. How sweet the fresh air was! And to think of Rob's being shut up in that horrible prison!

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you," said Garnett, when they stopped at the foot of the hotel steps. "But I won't leave this game until it's played through."

He held out his hand to her, raised his hat and looked at her; in his steady blue eyes was an expression of sincere friendliness that put courage into Harry's heart.

The confidence which that assurance of good will inspired in her sent Harry to a dreamless sleep.

When she came down to breakfast the next morning, the hotel clerk handed her a note.

Miss Holliday,

Dear Friend, Am sorry not to drive you across the prairie to-day, but have gone to hunt up that Jones. Saw your brother early, and gave him a look at Hunter. He says it's the same herder that beat him up. Your brother ain't talking about Jones, but I'll camp on his trail until I find him, or what was him, and fetch him along back to straighten this business out. Resp.

Christopher Garnett.

The letter was like the warm handclasp he had given her last night. She hurried off to see Rob, hoping that now he would feel differently toward Garnett.

But Rob returned her cheery greeting without much enthusiasm. "Garnett's all right," he said, in answer to her eager question. "He admits he thinks I didn't steal his horse, but some one did, and Jones looks like a good one to put it on. I promised to keep Jones's affairs quiet until he gets ready to talk himself. If Garnett finds him, he may get what he can from him; that's no affair of mine. When I see Judge Raeburn, he'll put the whole business straight in five minutes."

"Well." Harry's voice was colorless, and she stared past Rob at the window. Then, with a quick change of manner, she turned to him. "In his note Garnett said that Boykin is Hunter. What will that mean, Rob?"

Rob's face lighted up. "If we can prove that he is, we can contest his filing on that land."

"O Rob! How perfectly splendid! But how soon can we find out?"

"When court opens. As soon as Boykin comes up for trial, Garnett will appear as a witness against him in this case of assault that he arrested him for."

"He attacked another man?"

"Yes, he got into a fight up on the way to the reserve; ran his sheep under the fence onto Rudy Batt's land, and when Rudy set his dogs on the sheep, Boykin, or Hunter, leaped on him with a stick, just as he did on me, and beat him up."

"Mercy! What a murderous creature! I'm glad some one arrested him at last."

"Yes, that's another thing I want to stay over here for: to appear against him in court. He may get six months in the pen."

"I hope he will. I wonder what he changed his name for? What a funny thing to do!"

"That's not so uncommon. A man often skips the country and changes his name when he's done something and is afraid of the law. Garnett says that Hunter was herding cattle for the same outfit he was with, and that he was always quarreling with some one. Then one night he pulled a gun on one of the boys, and lit out without waiting to see whether he'd killed him or not."

"Had he killed him?"

"No, lucky for him. But you see he had filed on a homestead out there, and so he's got no right to this one."

"Then we can surely get it."

"Not so sure. As soon as Joyce sees what's going to happen, he may jump in and put another man on there."

"O Bob! Could he? Would it be possible?"

"Why not? If he's slick enough to have done it so often, it won't bother him to do it once more. But there's time enough to think about that later. You must hit for home now, if you're to make it before dark. Let's see. You need groceries, don't you?"

"Yes. I forgot that to-day was Sunday."

"Well, see here. Go to the hotel and ask the clerk, Dougherty, to telephone down to his brother at the mercantile company store. Jack Dougherty is bookkeeper there, and he's usually down at the store early Sunday morning; he'll let you in to get what you want. When you get home, better round up the heifers every night to be sure they're all there. I may hear of the cow over this way."

Before Rob's calm, matter-of-fact attitude Harry's reluctance at going back to the ranch alone appeared childish. So she said good-by cheerily and started out.

The sun was high and the morning breeze dead when at last she left the poplar-shaded streets of the old mining town and struck the long road up the caÑon to the top of the divide. She met only one person on the road, and that was Joyce. He was driving his motor car toward Hailey. When he came in sight the team began to prance nervously. Joyce got out and came up to them. He looked curiously at Harry, but did not recognize her until she spoke to thank him for quieting the horses.

"Say!" he exclaimed. "Ain't you the lady from Connecticut? Sure. What you doin' out here alone? Where's your brother at?"

"He had to stay in Hailey on business," she answered, smiling a little. Soon enough Joyce would know what the business was.