at a steady trot.  Night fell before they reached the last water in the Pass and they made camp by starlight.  Venters did not want the burros to stray, so he tied them with long halters in the grass near the spring.  Bess, tired out and silent, laid her head in a saddle and went to sleep between the two dogs.  Venters did not close his eyes.  The canyon silence appeared full of the low, continuous hum of insects.  He listened until the hum grew into a roar, and then, breaking the spell, once more he heard it low and clear.  He watched the stars and the moving shadows, and always his glance returned to the girl’s dimly pale face.  And he remembered how white and still it had once looked in the starlight.  And again stern thought fought his strange fancies.  Would all his labor and his love be for naught?  Would he lose her, after all?  What did the dark shadow around her portend?  Did calamity lurk on that long upland trail through the sage?  Why should his heart swell and throb with nameless fear?  He listened to the silence and told himself that in the broad light of day he could dispel this leaden-weighted dread.

At the first hint of gray over the eastern rim he awoke Bess, saddled the burros, and began the day’s travel.  He wanted to get out of the Pass before there was any chance of riders coming down.  They gained the break as the first red rays of the rising sun colored the rim.

For once, so eager was he to get up to level ground, he did not send Ring or Whitie in advance.  Encouraging Bess to hurry pulling at his patient, plodding burro, he climbed the soft, steep trail.

Brighter and brighter grew the light.  He mounted the last broken edge of rim to have the sun-fired, purple sage-slope burst upon him as a glory.  Bess panted up to his side, tugging on the halter of her burro.

“We’re up!” he cried, joyously.  “There’s not a dot on the sage We’re safe.  We’ll not be seen!  Oh, Bess—­”

Ring growled and sniffed the keen air and bristled.  Venters clutched at his rifle.  Whitie sometimes made a mistake, but Ring never.  The dull thud of hoofs almost deprived Venters of power to turn and see from where disaster threatened.  He felt his eyes dilate as he stared at Lassiter leading Black Star and Night out of the sage, with Jane Withersteen, in rider’s costume, close beside them.

For an instant Venters felt himself whirl dizzily in the center of vast circles of sage.  He recovered partially, enough to see Lassiter standing with a glad smile and Jane riveted in astonishment.

“Why, Bern!” she exclaimed.  “How good it is to see you!  We’re riding away, you see.  The storm burst—­and I’m a ruined woman!...I thought you were alone.”

Venters, unable to speak for consternation, and bewildered out of all sense of what he ought or ought not to do, simply stared at Jane.

“Son, where are you bound for?” asked Lassiter.

“Not safe—­where I was.  I’m—­we’re going out of Utah—­back East,” he found tongue to say.