"She will want this," he said, and then bent over his writing. Again, when Sucatash came in for more stuff, De Launay stopped him. He held out the pen, indicating the sheet of paper spread upon the table. "This needs two witnesses, I think, but one will have to serve. She is my wife, after all--but it will make it more certain. Will you sign it?" Sucatash glanced hastily at the document, reading the opening words: "I, Louis Bienville de Launay, colonel and late general of division of the army of France, being of sound and disposing mind, do make, declare, and publish this my Last Will and Testament----" His eye caught only one other phrase: "I give, bequeath, and devise to my dearly beloved wife, Solange----" With an oath, Sucatash savagely dashed his signature where De Launay indicated, and then rushed out of the room. The soldier took another piece of paper and resumed his writing. When he had finished he folded the two sheets into an envelope and sealed it. Outside, Sucatash was heaving the lashings taut on the last packs. De Launay came to the door and stood watching the final preparations. Solange still sat desolately on the log. Finally Sucatash came to her and assisted her to rise. He led her to her horse and held the stirrup for her as she swung to the saddle. He was about to mount himself when De Launay caught his eye. Instead, he stepped to the soldier's side. "Take this," said De Launay, holding out the envelope. "Give it to her to-morrow. And--she needn't worry about the mine--or Banker." "She's not even thinkin' about them!" growled Sucatash. He turned and strode to his horse. In another moment they were riding rapidly toward the rim of the crater. De Launay watched them for some time and then went into the cabin. He came out a moment later carrying saddle and bridle. On his thighs were now hanging holsters on both sides, and both were strapped down at the bottoms. He caught and saddled his horse, taking his time to the operation. Then, searching the darkening surface of the crater wall, he found no trace of the two who had ridden away. But he busied himself in getting food and eating it. It was fully an hour after they had gone before he mounted and rode after them. By this time Solange and Sucatash had reached the rim and were well on their way through the down timber. More by luck than any knowledge of the way, they managed to strike the game trail, and wound through the impeding snags, the cow-puncher taking the lead and the girl following listlessly in his wake. Before dark had come upon them they had gained the level bench and were riding toward the gulch which led into the canyon. After a while Sucatash spoke. "Where you aimin' to camp, ma'am?" "I am going down to these miners," she said flatly. "But, mad'mo'selle, that camp ain't no place for you. There ain't no women there, most likely, and the men are sure to be a tough bunch. I wouldn't like to let you go there."