That night when Bud and his men returned, they reported that they could find no trace of the halfbreed. They believed that the Mexican with his wide knowledge of the mountains had probably escaped to some retreat. A few days of rest and quiet were indulged in by the men who had followed the trail of the outlaws so determinedly. One fine morning, Mason, who had found a shady spot on the porch and had lazily stretched himself out for a nap, found his plans rudely shattered by the mistress of the ranch herself. She came running out of the house and stood surveying him with an air of severity. “I would like to know, Sir Jack, if you are in the habit of breaking your promises,” she demanded, trying to keep her look of severity while pointing an accusing finger at him. Mason looked up at her in astonishment. “Why, Josephine, I don’t know what you are driving at,” he answered with a blank look. He thought he had never seen her look as pretty as she did this morning. She stood before him, her eyes fairly dancing with fun. “Then, Sir, I will refresh your memory,” she began with increasing severity. “Did you or did you not promise me long, long ago to take me for a ride in that fast racing car of yours?” Mason sprang to his feet. “What a dunce I’ve been, Josephine,” he exclaimed. “We’ll go for a ride this very morning. What do you say?” “I’ll say, I’ll go,” she answered with a happy laugh and ran to tell her mother. Mason backed the trim racer out of the shed and had the motor running smoothly by the time Josephine rejoined him. “My, but you make a lot of smoke and noise,” she cried, putting her fingers to her ears. “Just racing the engine a little,” he explained, as the girl bent over to watch him adjust the gas mixture. “Jump in, we’ve picked as fine a morning as you’ll find in these parts,” he added gaily, as he lifted her into the seat with strong arms. It was an ideal morning with a cool and gentle breeze blowing. Mason let the car out at high speed for several miles, then slowing down a little he turned and looked curiously at the girl beside him. She had not uttered a sound, but sat with parted lips smiling in contentment. Her golden hair blown and tumbled by the wind, and her blue-gray eyes sparkling with the joy of life and health, made her a most bewitching picture. If she only knew how well he loved her, but with the thought came the image of Anderson who had first claim on her. He gripped the wheel savagely, a frown on his face. The girl was snuggled deep in the cushions. “Oh, but this ride is fine,” she said in a low voice. Then noticing his frown she added quickly: “What is the trouble, Sir Jack, didn’t your breakfast set well this morning?” “Breakfast is the least of my troubles,” he answered, forcing a smile as he slowed the car down to about fifteen miles per hour.