The last comer with a mighty oath explained that the girl belonged to him, and that no one had a right to her.  He demanded that the other come with him to the grave, and see what had become of the girl; and then they would all go and drink together—­but the girl belonged to him.

They rode to the place of the graves, and met the two others returning; but there was no sign of the girl, and the three taunted the one, saying that the girl had given him the slip.  Amid much argument as to whose she was and where she was, they rode on cursing through God’s beauty.  They passed the bottle continually, that their nerves might be the steadier; and, when they came to the deserted cabin once more, they paused and discussed what to do.

At last it was agreed that they should start on a quest after her, and with oaths, and coarse jests, and drinking, they started down the trail of which the girl had gone in search by her roundabout way.

CHAPTER V

A NIGHT RIDE

It was a wonderful night that the two spent wading the sea of moonlight together on the plain.  The almost unearthly beauty of the scene grew upon them.  They had none of the loneliness that had possessed each the night before, and might now discover all the wonders of the way.

Early in the way they came upon a prairie-dogs’ village, and the man would have lingered watching with curiosity, had not the girl urged him on.  It was the time of night when she had started to run away, and the same apprehension that filled her then came upon her with the evening.  She longed to be out of the land which held the man she feared.  She would rather bury herself in the earth and smother to death than be caught by him.  But, as they rode on, she told her companion much of the habits of the curious little creatures they had seen; and then, as the night settled down upon them, she pointed out the dark, stealing creatures that slipped from their way now and then, or gleamed with a fearsome green eye from some temporary refuge.

At first the cold shivers kept running up and down the young man as he realized that here before him in the sage-brush was a real live animal about which he had read so much, and which he had come out bravely to hunt.  He kept his hand upon his revolver, and was constantly on the alert, nervously looking behind lest a troop of coyotes or wolves should be quietly stealing upon him.  But, as the girl talked fearlessly of them in much the same way as we talk of a neighbor’s fierce dog, he grew gradually calmer, and was able to watch a dark, velvet-footed moving object ahead without starting.

By and by he pointed to the heavens, and talked of the stars.  Did she know that constellation?  No?  Then he explained.  Such and such stars were so many miles from the earth.  He told their names, and a bit of mythology connected with the name, and then went on to speak of the moon, and the possibility of its once having been inhabited.