Presently against the yellow streak appeared two moving specks. Alison watched them idly; two birds, perhaps. But as they grew larger and larger she perceived that they were men riding leisurely towards her. She watched to see if they would turn off where the road diverged and went on past the wood towards Louisa’s house, but they kept on, coming nearer, nearer, till what at first was but idle curiosity on the part of the girl became intense interest. Surely there was something familiar in the square shoulders, the set of the head, the easy carriage of the man upon the right. Her heart beat tumultuously, her eager eyes never took themselves from those advancing figures. Now they had passed the woods and were turning up by the chaparral at the angle where Pedro’s cabin stood. They halted here a moment, then came steadily on. Alison clutched the fence hard; there was a buzzing in her ears; her pulses were flying. Nearer and nearer they came till she saw that they were indeed no chance travelers, but Neal Jordan, and could it be Stephen? That slight, gaunt man swaying in his saddle? The world was now bathed in a golden glory; purple and red had changed to rose and gray overhead; the yellow flame had crept up like a mounting fire till it overspread all the west, illumining tree and shrub and prairie grass. Its gleams struck the silver mountings on the horsemen’s saddles, ran along the barrels of their rifles laid across their knees, and stole under the shadows of their sombreros to light up their faces. The girl uttered a smothered cry, a sob of joy, and, turning, rushed to the house and up to the darkened room where her sister lay. She ran to the bed and bent over the quiet figure. “Oh, Christine, Christine,” she cried, “he is coming! They are coming!” Christine raised herself on her elbow. “Who? Who?” she asked in a shaking voice. “What do you mean, Alison?” “They are coming. At last they are coming. You didn’t know that Neal went, that I sent him, to find Steve, and oh, Christine, he has found him. They are coming.” “Thank God! Thank God!” Christine tottered to her feet, and the two fell into each other’s arms, weeping hysterically. Below stairs there was the sound of feet moving across the gallery slowly, as if supporting a burden. “Come, come,” said Alison grasping her sister’s hand. And they went down to find that John, too, had seen the approach of his friends, and with Neal’s assistance was helping Steve into the house. He lay exhausted upon the couch. Christine dropped on her knees beside him. He raised a feeble hand and laid it on her head. “I’ve got here at last, Tina,” he said; “I thought I’d peg out before I did, but Neal kept me up, God bless him.” Christine had no words; she could only kneel there sobbing. All the pent-up grief of the past years found vent at last. He had come, and although pale and thin and worn, he was safe.