But the complete day was lost. The rich ledge, of which he had once found strong indications, remained locked in that secret passage of the hills for any chance comer to stumble upon. The search for Slocum also proved fruitless. Even Myers, who sauntered into camp an hour after Forrest, to learn what kept the young prospector, failed to trail the outlaw beyond a rocky point half a mile up-stream, where he presumably had taken advantage of low water to push up the gravelly bars of the river bed. The two searchers returning met near camp. "I jedge," said Eben dryly, "ther next time we count on doin’ any prospectin’, we’ll leave ther women folks ter home." Forrest made no answer and the settler put his shoulder to a clump of alders and pushed through. The late sun, slanting between the branches, was in his eyes, but across the open he saw his wife at the camp-fire, preparing her dish of wapato. "I dunno," he added, "but what Marthy’s er pretty good hand ter have erlong sometimes. An’ I ’low ef she hed hed ther rifle she’d er fetched that ther cougar. Marthy’s er mighty fine shot." "Cougar?" repeated Forrest, "what cougar?" Eben stopped and looked back. "Didn’t they tell you ’bout that cougar? Mose kem erlong an’ killed him; they was keepin’ him off with bresh. An’ Mose was takin’ ther pelt when Slocum sneaked in an’ lit out with his gun." Forrest asked no more. He pushed by Myers into the open, and stumbled over something damp and soft that clung to his shoes. It was the skin; the hairy side, turned back at the end where he had tripped, was of the tawny, unmistakable color familiar in those days to every woodsman on Puget Sound. Alice was coming across the grass to meet him. He moved back a step, steadying himself with one hand on an alder. His whole young, well-knit body shook. "Alice," he said, and his voice rang, deepened, and broke. "Alice—what happened?" "Nothing—" she looked at the skin,—"Mose killed him. Nothing happened. But Paul,—it was the closest—" she laughed a little, bravely—"’_the closest—shave—I ever had._’" *CHAPTER V* *STRATTON’S WAY* "Yes, sir, he’s ther great tyee, an’ I’ve hed him spotted sence spring." Lem waded a few steps to a flat rock under the bank and seated himself disgustedly. "An’ I hed him hooked, an’ er clawin’ fur all he was worth in er riffle, ’ithout ’nough water ter carry him over, when you kem poundin’ up ther trail an’ scared him clear outn his skin. Picked hisself up like er reg’lar grasshopper an’ got erway ’ith er bran’ new line." "Too bad." Stratton checked his restless horse and sat looking down at the boy with his mocking smile. "But here is the price of the best tackle to be had at Yelm Station. Better luck next time." Lem caught the piece of silver and studied it closely.