Douglas started for the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Peter.

“After Judith!”

“What about Scott and the preacher?”

Douglas turned to face the others, his lips white, his eyes burning.  “What do I care about them, when Judith is in question!”

“You go ahead, Doug!” cried Inez.  “Don’t wait for anything.  Judith’s been talking about running away for years, but she never planned to go off in the winter, I can tell you that.”

“John had been drinking, you must remember,” half-sobbed Mary.  “He’s always so ugly then.”

Douglas rushed out of the door.  Peter followed him.  “I’m going up to the old ranch and see if I can pick up their trail.  I need another horse.  My corral is cleared out and Dad’s is too.  But I—­O, Peter!” Douglas’ voice broke.

“Keep your nerve up, Douglas.  I’ve got a couple of horses in fair condition down at my place.  We’ll ride there after we look over things at your father’s ranch.”

They hardly had cleared the corral when Mary overtook them.  She was still crying, but except for her sobs they rode in a heavy silence to the ranch house.

Old Johnny was gone.  They found a curious note on the kitchen table.  “Going after Jud for Douglas.  J.B.”

“She’s started for Mountain City, I’m certain,” said Mary.  “She’s been terribly uneasy ever since Doug left home, always saying a girl had no chance to make anything of herself here.  It would be exactly like her to lose her temper and start off, hard pelt on that hundred-mile ride with no preparations at all.”

“That’s not what worries me,” said Peter.  “It’s John when he’s drunk.”

“It’s light enough to start!” exclaimed Douglas.  “Mother, you give us some breakfast.  Let’s roll up some blankets and take some grub and get gone, Peter.”

In little more than a half-hour they were on the trail.  And all the exultation which had carried Douglas through the night had fled, leaving him with the sense of impending calamity that had spoiled the dance for him.  And he knew now that it had been a well-founded prescience.  A door had closed behind him, forever, and, with horror in his heart, he was facing a void.  For something had gone wrong with Judith.  And Judith was his life.

CHAPTER XVI

THE TRAIL OVER THE PASS

“Some riders’ spurs are the lightest when their hearts are the heaviest.”

—­The Moose.

It was a clear day, but in the increasing light, white clouds could be seen whirling from the crest of Lost Chief.

“Lost Chief is making snow, but we won’t get it before evening,” said Peter, as they dismounted at the post-office corral.  “Now we’ll just outfit for a couple of days.  I’m believing we’ll overtake one or both before night, but you can’t tell.  If Jude was crazy enough to run away in zero weather, she’s crazy enough to have taken any kind of a risk and to be paying for it.”