What a pleasure it was to be in the saddle again, and to feel strength to remain there!  He rode with August all over the western end of the plateau.  They came at length to a strip of ground, higher than the bordering forest, which was comparatively free of cedars and brush; and when August had surveyed it once he slapped his knee with satisfaction.

“Fine, better than I hoped for!  This stretch is about a mile long, and narrow at this end.  Now, Jack, you see the other side faces the rim, this side the forest, and at the end here is a wall of rock; luckily it curves in a half circle, which will save us work.  We’ll cut cedars, drag them in line, and make a big corral against the rock.  From the opening in the corral we’ll build two fences of trees; then we’ll chase Silvermane till he’s done, run him down into this level, and turn him inside the fence.  No horse can break through a close line of cedars.  He’ll run till he’s in the corral, and then we’ll rope him.”

“Great!” said Jack, all enthusiasm.  “But isn’t it going to take a lot of work?”

“Rather,” said August, dryly.  “It’ll take a week to cut and drag the cedars, let alone to tire out that wild stallion.  When the finish comes you want to be on that ledge where we’ll have the corral.”

They returned to camp and prepared supper.  Mescal and Piute soon arrived, and, later, Dave and Billy on jaded mustangs.  Black Bolly limped behind, stretching a long halter, an unhappy mustang with dusty, foam-stained coat and hanging head.

“Not bad,” said August, examining the lame leg.  “She’ll be fit in a few days, long before we need her to help run down Silvermane.  Bring the liniment and a cloth, one of you, and put her in the sheep-corral to-night.”

Mescal’s love for the mustang shone in her eyes while she smoothed out the crumpled mane, and petted the slender neck.

“Bolly, to think you’d do it!” And Bolly dropped her head as though really ashamed.

When darkness fell they gathered on the rim to watch the signals.  A fire blazed out of the black void below, and as they waited it brightened and flamed higher.

“Ugh!” said Piute, pointing across to the dark line of cliffs.

“Of course he’d see it first,” laughed Naab.  “Dave, have you caught it yet?  Jack, see if you can make out a fire over on Echo Cliffs.”

“No, I don’t see any light, except that white star.  Have you seen it?”

“Long ago,” replied Naab.  “Here, sight along my finger, and narrow your eyes down.”

“I believe I see it—­yes, I’m sure.”

“Good.  How about you, Mescal?”

“Yes,” she replied.

Jack was amused, for Dave insisted that he had been next to the Indian, and Billy claimed priority to all of them.  To these men bred on the desert keen sight was preeminently the chief of gifts.

“Jack, look sharp!” said August.  “Peon is blanketing his fire.  See the flicker?  One, two—­one, two—­one.  Now for the answer.”