The left front tire of the town Ford persisted in going flat with a slow valve leak. The driver, a heedless young fellow, had neglected to bring extra valves; so that the tire needed pumping every ten miles or such a matter. Then the Ford began heating on the long, uphill pull between the Pintwater Mountains and the Spotted Range, and some time was lost during the heat of the day because of the necessity for cooling the motor. Delays such as these eat away the hours on a long trip; wherefore it was nearly dusk when Patricia got her first glimpse of Johnnywater Cañon. Up in the crosscut, Gary heard the rumbling throb of the motor, and shouted until he was exhausted. Which did not take long, even with the nourishment of the broiled dove to refresh his failing strength. He consoled himself afterward with the thought that it was James Blaine Hawkins come sneaking back, and that he would like nothing better than to find Gary hopelessly caged in the crosscut. Gary was rather glad that James Blaine Hawkins had failed to hear him shout. At any rate, the secret of Patricia’s mine was safe from him, and Gary would be spared the misery of being taunted by Hawkins. It was a crazy notion, for it was not at all likely that even James Blaine Hawkins would have let him die so grisly a death. But Gary was harboring strange notions at times during the last forty-eight hours. And the body of one wild dove was pitifully inadequate for the needs of a starving man. Monty had not meant to be cruel. Now that he was on the spot, he tried his best to soften the shock of what he knew Patricia must discover. That morning he had purposely avoided speaking of his reasons for fearing the worst. Then Patricia’s manner--assumed merely to hide her real emotion--had chilled Monty to silence on the whole subject. With the driver present they had not discussed the matter at all during the trip, so that Patricia was still ignorant of what Monty believed to be the real, tragic state of affairs. Monty looked up from lighting a fire in the stove and saw Patricia go over to Gary’s coat and smooth it caressingly with her hand. Then and there he forgave Patricia for her tone at breakfast. She took Gary’s hat from the cupboard and held it in her hands, her eyes questioning Monty. “Gary was saving that hat till he went to town again,” Monty informed her in his gentle drawl. “He was wearing an old hat of Waddell’s, and some old clothes Waddell left here when he pulled out. You see now, Miss Connolly, one reason why I don’t believe Gary went to Tonopah. His suit case is there, too, under the bunk. But don’t yuh-all worry--we’ll find him.” He turned back to his fire-building, and Patricia sat down on the edge of the bunk and stared wide-eyed around the cabin. So this was why she had failed to hear from Gary in all these weeks! He had come over here to Johnnywater after all, because she wished it. She had never dreamed the place would be so lonely. And Gary had lived here all alone!