Martha stood a thoughtful moment looking at the black. "I dunno," she said, "how Dick Slocum kem to leave Colonel. He hed er mighty good chanct to take er horse that ’ud carry him out er ther country, easy. But he was mighty scared o’ makin’ er noise, an’ got erway in er terrible hurry. I jedge he didn’t ’low ther was only one gun in ther crowd; he hedn’t located Eben an’ ther rifle." But evidently the outlaw had located the rifle, for, lifting her keen eyes Martha discovered Forrest, the gun in the curve of his arm, coming swiftly down the glade. His glance swept the open anxiously, as he approached, but at sight of the girl, unharmed, the tense lines softened in his face. "I thought I heard a shot," he said, and his look again searched the place for the hunter; "I fixed it at about here. But I see I was mistaken. The truth is," he shook his head, smiling at his folly, "I got it into my head that you needed me. I couldn’t think of anything else. You see you were so incautious yesterday, at the river; then, too, I blamed myself for leaving you without the protection of Eben’s rifle. And I had forgotten to give you your book. You dropped it yesterday at the canyon, and I was afraid the time would drag without anything to read." He drew the little volume from his pocket, and flushing, conscious of the shallowness of his excuse, looked off, riverward. "I jedge," said Martha briefly, "ef you head right off fur ther river, up-stream, you kin hit Dick Slocum’s trail. He’s jest gone off ’ith ther rations, bag an’ all. Keep ther rifle handy; he’s took Mose Laramie’s gun." Then for the first time Forrest looked straight at the girl. The line drew black between his brows. He saw that her face was grimy with smoke and moisture; that the hand which had taken the book was scratched, bruised, stained. "Slocum? Then I did hear a shot." His voice was quiet, but it took a new quality, the streak of iron outcropping in the man. "He did not offer to touch you?" "No, oh, no." She swayed a little on her feet; it was difficult to find words. "The shot you heard was Mose’s. He—" But that was enough. Forrest was off, pushing swiftly towards the river, picking up the fugitive’s trail. Martha followed him a short distance, then turned down-stream. It was not her way to wait in idleness for the chance rescue of the provision bag, and she began industriously to dig the wapato. Presently she selected a more stubborn plant and dropped to her knees. "He kem back jest ter bring that ther book," she said slowly, thrusting the sharpened stick deep into the earth, "an’ mebbe ther rifle. Lost ’bout half er day’s prospectin’. An’ he ’lowed he only hed one ter spare. Ef it don’t beat all."