As they moved away together, Flora Schuyler cast a steady, scrutinizing glance at her companion. "I could have told you, Hetty," she said. "Yes," said Hetty, with a little nod. "He wouldn't go, and I feel so mean that I'm not fit to talk to you or anybody. But wait. You'll hear something before to-morrow." It was not quite daylight when Miss Schuyler was awakened by a murmur of voices and a tramp of feet on the frozen sod. Almost at the same moment the door of her room opened, and a slim, white figure glided towards the window. Flora Schuyler stood beside it in another second or two, and felt that the girl whose arm she touched was trembling. The voices below grew louder, and they could see two men come running from the stable, while one or two others were flinging saddles upon the horses brought out in haste. "He must have got away an hour ago," said somebody. "The best horse Allonby had in the corral isn't there now." Then Hetty sat down laughing excitedly, and let her head fall back on Flora Schuyler's shoulder when she felt the warm girdling of her arm. In another moment she was crying and gasping painfully. "He has got away. The best horse in the corral! Ten times as many of them couldn't bring him back," she said. "Hetty," said Miss Schuyler decisively, "you are shivering all through. Go back at once. He is all right now." The girl gasped again, and clung closer to her companion. "Of course," she said. "You don't know Larry. If they had all the Cedar boys, too, he would ride straight through them." X ON THE TRAIL Grant and Breckenridge sat together over their evening meal. Outside the frost was almost arctic, but there was wood in plenty round Fremont ranch, and the great stove diffused a stuffy heat. The two men had made the round of the small homesteads that were springing up, with difficulty, for the snow was too loose and powdery to bear a sleigh, and now they were content to lounge in the tranquil enjoyment of the rest and warmth that followed exposure to the stinging frost. At last Breckenridge pushed his plate aside, and took out his pipe. "You must have put a good many dollars into your ploughing, Larry, and the few I had have gone in the same way," he said. "You see, it's a long while until harvest comes round, and a good many unexpected things seem to happen in this country. To be quite straight, is there much probability of our getting any of those dollars back?" Grant smiled. "I think there is, though I can't be sure. The legislature must do something for us sooner or later, while the fact that the cattle-men and the Sheriff have left us alone of late shows that they don't feel too secure. Still, there may be trouble. A good many hard cases have been coming in." "The cattle-men would get them. It's dollars they're wanting, and the other men have a good many more than we have. By the way, shouldn't the man with the money you are waiting for turn up to-night?"