“I wondered if you weren’t the new owner, for I had learned that the ranch had been sold by Mr. Stevenson.  Father bought his sheep.  You are Mr. Bryant, aren’t you?  This is most kind to lend me your horse.”

“You’ll find Dick gentle; and you can lead your own mount.  Walking appears to have exhausted you.”

Again she shook her head, with an odd expression growing upon her face—­anxiety, distress, just what Lee could not exactly decide.  But as she made no explanation, he gave her a hand and swung her upon Dick, after which he handed her the reins and advanced the hope that she should arrive home without further misadventure.

She made no move to depart, however, but sat regarding the engineer.

“I was at your house,” she stated, finally.

“To see me?”

“To find you, or someone, who could help me.  When my horse went lame near the ford, I found that he had picked up a stone which I couldn’t remove.  So I led him to your house, seeking assistance.  When I reached there——­”

She stopped in her recital, compressing her lips and gazing off across the sagebrush.

“Well?” the engineer encouraged.

“When I reached there, I heard a dog whining.”

Bryant stiffened.

“I left my dog Mike behind,” said he.

“The sound was really more like a moaning,” she went on.  “At first I could see nothing, but when I looked everywhere I found that it came from one of the three cottonwood trees.  Somebody had hurt him, and the poor creature was suffering terribly.  I—­I can hardly tell what had been done to him!” And she shuddered.

“Mike!  They’ve killed my dog Mike!”

“They nailed him to a cottonwood tree.  A nail through each leg.  A nail through his throat.  Nails through his body.  They had crucified him.  And, oh, his pitiful eyes!”

Lee Bryant stood perfectly still and quiet.  Dave was frozen and horrified.  Both gazed fixedly across the mesa to where the cottonwoods could be seen.

“Is Mike alive yet?” Bryant asked presently, in an unsteady voice.

“No; not now.  I found a piece of iron and hammered the nails free.  Then I lifted him down and carried him to the creek and washed his wounds.  But he died.  I see his eyes yet, looking up at me.”  For a little she was overcome.  Then she resumed, “When he was dead, I carried him up to your door, for I knew you must have loved him.”

Bryant glanced up at her.

“Mike would know you were a friend,” he said.

She nodded and reined Dick about.  Leading the other horse, she rode away through the sunshine that burnished the mesa.

CHAPTER VIII

July passed.  Followed August, with days likewise hot and unvarying except for a scarcely appreciable retardation of dawn.  Perro Creek now showed no water at all in its shallow bed; the garden planted by the Stevensons was long dried up; the sagebrush was dustier than ever; and Bryant and Dave were hauling in a barrel on a sledge water for their use from a pool in the canon.