He had left the lantern for her.  She placed it on the floor and went across her strange bedroom to the hole in the rock through which the stars were shining.  It seemed impossible that those stars out there were the same stars which had shone upon her all of her life long.  She could fancy that she had gone to sleep in one world and now had awakened in another, coming into a far, unknown territory where the face of the earth was changed, where men were different, where life was new.  And though her body was tired her spirit did not droop.  Rather an old exhilaration was in her blood.  She had stepped from an old, outworn world into a new one, and with a quick stir of the pulses she told herself that life was good where it was strenuous and that she was glad that Virginia Page had come to San Juan.

“And now,” she mused sleepily when at last she lay down upon heaped-up pine-needles and drew over her the blanket Norton had brought, “I am going to sleep in the hang-out of Jim Galloway and the old home of the cliff-dwellers!  Virginia Page, you are a downright lucky girl!”

Whereupon she blew out her lantern, smiled faintly at the stars shining upon her, sighed wearily and went to sleep.

CHAPTER VIII

JIM GALLOWAY’S GAME

As full consciousness of her surroundings returned slowly to her, Virginia Page at first thought that she had been awakened by the aroma of boiling coffee.  Then, sitting up, wide awake, she knew that Norton had come to the doorway of her separate chamber and had called.  She threw off her blanket and got up hastily.

It was still dark.  She imagined that she had merely dozed and that Norton was summoning her because Brocky Lane was worse.  A dim glow shone through the cave entrance, that flickering, uncertain light eloquent of a camp-fire.  As her hands went swiftly and femininely to her hair, she heard Norton’s voice in a laughing remark.  Only then she knew that she had slept three or four hours, that the dawn was near, that it was time for her to return to San Juan.

“Good morning,” she said brightly.

Norton, squatting by the fire, frying-pan in hand, turned and answered her nod; Brocky Lane, flat on his back with his hands clasped behind his head, a cigarette in his mouth, twisted a little where he lay, his eyes eager upon his doctor.  Virginia came on into the full light, striking the pine-needles from her riding-habit.

“Time to eat and ride,” said Norton, turning again to his task.  “Bacon and coffee and exercise.  Have you rested?”

“Perfectly.  And Mr. Lane?”

“Me?” said Brocky.  “Feeling fine.”

Norton gave her a cup of warm water to wash her hands.  Then she made a second, very careful examination of Brocky’s wound, cleansing it and adjusting a fresh bandage.

“I want to start in half an hour,” said the sheriff.  “There’ll be light enough then so that we can make time getting down to the horses and yet not enough light to show us up to a chance early rider down below.  Then we’ll swing off to the west, make a wide bend, ride through Las Estrellas and get back into San Juan when we please.  That is you will; I’ll leave you outside of Las Estrellas, showing you the way.  And, while we eat, I am going to tell you something.”