“I don’t know you—stand aside or I’ll give you cause to regret interfering with matters that don’t concern you,” snarled Haley, his revolver coming to a level. “You will, eh? Is that the way you treat old pards, Jap Morton?” and the rifle was quickly raised to a level. Would the man dare fire? In that dead, uncertain light, death to the maiden must almost assuredly follow. “Curse you for a meddling rascal!” hissed Mark Haley, and his pistol spoke sharp and clear. Like an echo the rifle responded. Then came a shrill cry—a heavy groan and dull fall; then more shots, a confused trampling—then all was still. CHAPTER VI. THE LOST TRAIL. With the dawn of day, Archibald Hawksley emerged from the house, and set about his morning duties. Though he noticed the door was unbarred, he thought Fanny had forgot to secure it. But he was not long deceived. As he entered the stable, a cry of rage and surprise burst from his lips. Before him lay the stiff and mangled body of his faithful mastiff. One glance round the interior told him the stranger’s horse was missing, though all the others were safe. Scarcely knowing what to think, he rushed toward the house, where he was met by his wife, pale and agitated. “Father, where is Fannie?” Pale and stern, with blazing eyes, the settler dashed up the stairs and burst open the door of the room assigned to their late guest. It was empty. The bed had not been pressed that night. With a groan of heartfelt despair, he sunk into a chair. Though he knew not the cause of its being dealt him, he realized the full force of the blow. “Father, where is Fannie?” repeated the pale and trembling wife, creeping to his side. The voice and soft touch roused the stricken settler. In a moment he was himself again. With a desperate effort he regained his usual coolness, and set about the task that lay before him. “God only knows, but I will find her. That man—that devil must have stole her. Fool that I was, to let his lying tongue so blind me! But he shall pay for it, by my hopes of heaven! I swear that I will have his heart’s blood for this!” “Oh! Fannie—my child, my poor child!” gasped the bereaved mother, for the first time realizing the full weight of this new blow. “Peace, Esther,” coldly added Hawksley, though the unnatural glitter in his eyes, and the feverish flush upon his face told how severe must be the effort at composure. “Weeping and wailing will do no good here. We must _work_. Do you go down and send the children round to the neighbors with the tidings. Bid them come here at once, ready for work. I will take his trail, and you can send them after me as they come in. I will leave plenty of signs so that they can easily overtake me. Be sure and send to Campbell’s for Ned. Go now—there is no time to lose. I must look first if he left any clue.”