Weary as he was, Douglas was long in getting to sleep that night.  Charleton Falkner was deeply admired by all the young men of Lost Chief.  Not only was he of the ultra-sophisticated type, dear to adolescence, not only was he by far the cleverest hunter in the valley, but, most important of all, his name was whispered in connection with horse and cattle deals, never called questionable by Lost Chief but always mentioned with a wink and a chuckle for their adroitness.  To have been asked by Charleton to go as a partner on one of his mysterious trips was intoxicating enough to take the sting out of the fact that Scott met Judith that evening at the post-office and rode home with her.

The next day Judith several times tried to discover where Doug was going and with whom.

“Don’t you try tagging me again, like you did on the trip to the half-way house,” he said with a warning grin, when they were finishing the evening chores together.

“No danger!  I got a date of my own!” This with a toss of her curly head.

“Who with?”

“Don’t you wish you knew!  Other folks beside you can have interesting deals, Mr. Douglas Spencer!”

“Huh!  Some little stunt with Maud, I suppose.”

“No, it isn’t either.  Say, Doug, did you know Maud is going up to Mountain City to stay with her aunt and go to school there?”

“I suppose that’s what you’d like to do?” Doug watched the eager face closely.

“Well, not just now,” replied Judith with a little grin.  “I want to keep my date, first.”

“Well, don’t get into mischief, daughter; that’s all I have to say about your mysterious deal,” said Douglas paternally.

Judith laughed and carried her pail of milk into the kitchen.

It was after ten o’clock that night when Charleton led his two young henchman along the west trail, past Rodman’s and up the canyon toward the first shoulder of Lost Chief Peak.  The Moose did not approve of the trip.  He showed his disapproval by plunging and side jumping with nerve-racking persistency.  Ginger and Democrat gave him ample turning room, biting or kicking him if he drew too near them.  Midway in the canyon Charleton left the trail and turned abruptly to the left, up the sheer shoulder of the mountain.

“Need a hazer, Doug?” he called.

“Where are you going to camp, Charleton?” laughed Douglas, as the Moose refused the trail.

“On the west shoulder of the peak, just under the elevation monument.”

“I’ll find you there.  I may be delayed for a while!”

Charleton laughed too.  “Just so you get there by dawn!” he called; and Douglas saw the two figures, dim in the starlight, move upward on the barren shoulder of the mountain.  He allowed the Moose to circle for a moment, then he drove the rowells deep.  The snorting horse leaped up the steep incline, at a pace that shortly left him groaning for breath.  But Douglas spurred him relentlessly to the far tree line.  Here he permitted him to breathe while he listened to the receding thud of hoofs above.