But more positive information the landlady did not possess. When Brainard went to his hot room for the night, he felt “lonesome,” as the miner had said—as if some one had missed an appointment with him here in the Arizona desert. The more he thought about the description the old miner had given him, the date of her final departure, the more he became convinced that he had seen this elusive Melody that night at Phantom when he had dropped from the Santa Fé train and practically thrown himself upon the girl’s good nature to guide him into safety. He was so preoccupied with his own danger at the time, and the loss of his precious bag, that he had not given much thought to the girl, had not even remembered the talk about Krutzmacht’s mining venture in Arizona until later. So he had passed her in the dark almost at the start of his adventure—the one whom now he was seeking in a circle! Even then, in all probability, she had planned her flight,—he remembered how evasive she had been in reply to his blunt questions,—and she had left not long afterwards, within a few days, as far as he could make out. Yes, that must be Melody White,—the girl “nigh on sixteen,” the shy little girl with the appealing Southern accent, who had seemed to him so lonely sitting her yellow pony among the cactus as the night fell on the desert. His imagination fastened strongly on this belief, for it gave him fresh courage and purpose. If she were a being of flesh and blood four weeks before, she must be somewhere now. It was his business to find her. Probably she had gone first to San Francisco in search of Krutzmacht; but when she had learned of his death, where had she gone? At any rate California was the place from which to start the long trail. And a long trail, indeed, it might prove—the search for a wild young girl on her first journey into the wide world. XXI In the morning, when he descended to the bar-room of the Waldorf in search of nourishment, the old miner greeted him. “I thought,” he said suggestively, “maybe you’d like to see the mine. The Limited don’t reach Defiance until evenin’. The mine ain’t but a little ways out from here. You might be interested in lookin’ it over.” “All right!” Brainard exclaimed. “Let’s see the mine.” He had been so much preoccupied with Melody, the girl, that he had altogether forgotten about Krutzmacht’s interest in the Melody mine. “How far is it?” he asked. “About three miles back in the hills. The old man was building a trolley from the mine to the smelter here beside the river.” The miner pointed out the rusty rails and bleached sleepers of the trolley road as their horses picked the way over the rough ground up to the opening of the main shaft of the mine.