She ventured a hand across the rock, but the quivering lips drew back a trifle more, the big body crouched a bit lower—and the little bare leg draw out of sight behind the edge of the cave. Carefully the girl slipped back from the rock toward the pool, gained its lip, and dropped swiftly away down the cañon. At a little distance she drew a deep breath and looked back. The blue cañon lay still under the filtered rays of the noon sun, empty, murmurous, enchanted. The mouth of the cave was black and vacant. There was no sign of fiery eyes and slavering jaws, of a thin little leg under a fringe of blue jeans rags! With eyes dilated and lips closed in amazed silence Nance Allison made her way back to Buckskin, mounted and returned to the flats of Nameless. She had found Mystery with a capital, but she knew that she must wait with patience its unravelling. Those pale eyes between the flat ears held a challenge which only a fool would disregard—it would take time and patience. But, for the love of humanity, why was a child hiding like a fawn in Blue Stone Cañon—with only a dog to guard it—and with no sign of camp or people? CHAPTER V WHAT NANCE FOUND Nance pushed Buckskin hard and rode in early to the cabin and her mother’s counsel. She put the little horse away in the stable and fed him his quota of the precious hay, for Buckskin was not turned out to graze. He, along with Dan and Mollie, was too necessary to the life of the homestead to take chances with. They would miss him sorely should he go the way of the six steers. She hurried up and pulled open the kitchen door. “Mammy,” she said excitedly to the gaunt woman shelling peas by the table, “I’ve found something in the cañon. I wonder—should I meddle?” Mrs. Allison laid her wrinkled brown hands on the edge of the pan and looked at her daughter. “It’s according,” she said soberly, “does it _need_ meddlin’?” “That’s what I don’t know. I found a Collie dog—a savage dog for that breed—and a little child hiding in a cave. I couldn’t get near to them, but they act like they know what they’re doing—they had watched me from behind a rock and crawled to the cave in line with it when I turned. I only saw the child’s foot—but it was a thin little thing—and the old jeans pant-leg was weathered to rags. There wasn’t a sign of camp—nothing. What _could_ it mean?” The anxiety of a universally loving heart was in Nance’s voice. “Did I do right to come away—or should I have tried some more to see them? It couldn’t be done, though—the dog is on guard. He’ll have to be handled slowly, I’m sure of that.” Mrs. Allison considered this odd information gravely. “It means someone else besides the child and dog, that’s certain. They never got there by their lone selves.”