His thoughts full of the climax of his search, he rode on in a sort of exaltation, unconsciously humming a song he and Lucy Bancroft had been practising. Presently, through the silence, the sound entered his conscious hearing, and took his thoughts back to the pleasant hour he and she had spent over it. But a vague uneasiness stirred his feelings as the image of Lucy floated past the background of that grisly, dominating purpose. The thought of her persisted; as it clung there, along the edge of his absorption, it brought a sharp and curious suggestion of the maimed bird he had carried in his bosom. He was suddenly conscious of discomfort, as if he had hurt some helpless thing, when his reverie was broken by a series of wild yells from his companion. Pendleton had been lagging behind, but he now came dashing forward, giving vent to his delight because he had so far mastered the art of riding that he no longer bounced all over the horse's back nor fell forward and seized its mane at each change of gait. A spring welled alluringly from a dimple in the hillside. Pendleton dismounted, saying he was thirsty. "Don't drink from that spring, Pendy," Conrad admonished him. "It's alkali, and you'll wish you hadn't." "It looks all right, and it's cool," said the tenderfoot, dipping his hand in the water. "My throat's as hot and dry as that road. What harm will it do?" "Well, pretty soon you'll think you're chewing cotton; and it may make you sick, though this spring isn't strong enough of alkali to do you much harm." "I'll risk it," Pendleton declared, scooping up some water in his hat-brim. "It's wet when it goes down, anyway. And I reckon I might as well take in an alkali spring, too, while I've got the chance. Everything goes!" An hour later he galloped alongside of Conrad, working his jaws and licking his lips. "Say, Curt," he mumbled, "I know a fellow back home who'd give a thousand dollars for such a thirst as I've got!" It was midnight when they passed Rock Springs, where the superintendent had left his outfit. Two hours later, when Brown Betty put out her nose and neighed, an answering whinny came back from beyond the next hill. "That's only Five Cottonwoods," thought Curtis. "It can't be they've got no farther than that!" They gained the top of the hill and below them, in the light of the waning moon, they saw the white top of the chuck-wagon, the dark patch of sleeping cattle patrolled by a single horseman, and the figures of the men sprawled on the ground around the dying coals of their evening fire. "Here we are, Pendy!" said Curtis. "I thought they would have got farther than this, and that we'd have at least two hours more of travel. Now we'll have time for a little sleep before you begin busting those broncs."