He reflected that the girl had told him very little, after all, about her plans.  He must ask her.  He wished he knew more of her family.  If he were only older and she younger, or if he had the right kind of a woman friend to whom he might take her, or send her!  How horrible that that scoundrel was after her!  Such men were not men, but beasts, and should be shot down.

Far off in the distance, it might have been in the air or in his imagination, there sometimes floated a sound as of faint voices or shouts; but they came and went, and he listened, and by and by heard no more.  The horses breathed heavily behind their sage-brush stable, and the sun rose higher and hotter.  At last sleep came, troubled, fitful, but sleep, oblivion.  This time there was no lady in an automobile.

It was high noon when he awoke, for the sun had reached around the sage-brush, and was pouring full into his face.  He was very uncomfortable, and moreover an uneasy sense of something wrong pervaded his mind.  Had he or had he not, heard a strange, low, sibilant, writhing sound just as he came to consciousness?  Why did he feel that something, some one, had passed him but a moment before?

He rubbed his eyes open, and fanned himself with his hat.  There was not a sound to be heard save a distant hawk in the heavens, and the breathing of the horses.  He stepped over, and made sure that they were all right, and then came back.  Was the girl still sleeping?  Should he call her?  But what should he call her?  She had no name to him as yet.  He could not say, “My dear madam” in the wilderness, nor yet “mademoiselle.”

Perhaps it was she who had passed him.  Perhaps she was looking about for water, or for fire-wood.  He cast his eyes about, but the thick growth of sage-brush everywhere prevented his seeing much.  He stepped to the right and then to the left of the little enclosure where she had gone to sleep, but there was no sign of life.

At last the sense of uneasiness grew upon him until he spoke.

“Are you awake yet?” he ventured; but the words somehow stuck in his throat, and would not sound out clearly.  He ventured the question again, but it seemed to go no further than the gray-green foliage in front of him.  Did he catch an alert movement, the sound of attention, alarm?  Had he perhaps frightened her?

His flesh grew creepy, and he was angry with himself that he stood here actually trembling and for no reason.  He felt that there was danger in the air.  What could it mean?  He had never been a believer in premonitions or superstitions of any kind.  But the thought came to him that perhaps that evil man had come softly while he slept, and had stolen the girl away.  Then all at once a horror seized him, and he made up his mind to end this suspense and venture in to see whether she were safe.

CHAPTER VI

A CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR MEETING IN THE WILDERNESS