“Mescal and Black Bolly!” he exclaimed, and sat up quickly.  The mustang turned in the gate, slid to a stop, and stood quivering, restive, tossing its thoroughbred head, black as a coal, with freedom and fire in every line.  Mescal leaped off lightly.  A gray form flashed in at the gate, fell at her feet and rose to leap about her.  It was a splendid dog, huge in frame, almost white, wild as the mustang.

This was the Mescal whom he remembered, yet somehow different.  The sombre homespun garments had given place to fringed and beaded buckskin.

“I’ve come for you,” she said.

“For me?” he asked, wonderingly, as she approached with the bridle of the black over her arm.

“Down, Wolf!” she cried to the leaping dog.  “Yes.  Didn’t you know?  Father Naab says you’re to help me tend the sheep.  Are you better?  I hope so—­ You’re quite pale.”

“I—­I’m not so well,” said Hare.

He looked up at her, at the black sweep of her hair under the white band, at her eyes, like jet; and suddenly realized, with a gladness new and strange to him, that he liked to look at her, that she was beautiful.

V BLACK SAGE AND JUNIPER

August Naab appeared on the path leading from his fields.

“Mescal, here you are,” he greeted.  “How about the sheep?”

“Piute’s driving them down to the lower range.  There are a thousand coyotes hanging about the flock.”

“That’s bad,” rejoined August.  “Jack, there’s evidently some real shooting in store for you.  We’ll pack to-day and get an early start to-morrow.  I’ll put you on Noddle; he’s slow, but the easiest climber I ever owned.  He’s like riding . . .  What’s the matter with you?  What’s happened to make you angry?”

One of his long strides spanned the distance between them.

“Oh, nothing,” said Hare, flushing.

“Lad, I know of few circumstances that justify a lie.  You’ve met Snap.”

Hare might still have tried to dissimulate; but one glance at August’s stern face showed the uselessness of it.  He kept silent.

“Drink makes my son unnatural,” said Naab.  He breathed heavily as one in conflict with wrath.  “We’ll not wait till to-morrow to go up on the plateau; we’ll go at once.”

Then quick surprise awakened for Hare in the meaning in Mescal’s eyes; he caught only a fleeting glimpse, a dark flash, and it left him with a glow of an emotion half pleasure, half pain.

“Mescal,” went on August, “go into the house, and keep out of Snap’s way.  Jack, watch me pack.  You need to learn these things.  I could put all this outfit on two burros, but the trail is narrow, and a wide pack might bump a burro off.  Let’s see, I’ve got all your stuff but the saddle; that we’ll leave till we get a horse for you.  Well, all’s ready.”

Mescal came at his call and, mounting Black Bolly, rode out toward the cliff wall, with Wolf trotting before her.  Hare bestrode Noddle.  August, waving good-bye to his women-folk, started the train of burros after Mescal.