Patricia was obliged to wipe the tears away from her eyes before she could read the last two lines of Gary’s last letter. As it was she splotched the penciled words with a great drop or two, before she hid her face in her arms folded upon a high shoulder of the rock on which she sat, and cried until no more tears would come. After a while she heard Monty calling her name, but at first she did not care. The contents of that last letter proved that it had been written three weeks ago, evidently a day or so before Gary had ridden over to Monty’s camp. She was afraid to think what might have befallen since. It was the Voice of the rim rock that roused her finally. She stood up and listened, sure that it was Gary. To-day the beseeching note was in the Voice, and all Monty’s talk of its elusiveness went for naught. It was Gary up there, she was sure of that. And she knew that he was in trouble. So she rolled his letters to her for easier carrying, cupped her palms around her mouth, shouted that she was coming, and started up the bluff. At the cabin Monty heard her and came running down to the creek. “That ain’t Gary!” he shouted to her. “That’s the Voice I was tellin’ about. Yuh-all better keep down off that bluff, Miss Connolly!” Patricia poised on a rock and looked back. “Oh, come and help find him! That’s Gary--I _know_ it’s Gary!” Then she turned and went on climbing recklessly over the treacherous, piled rocks. “Come on back!” Monty shouted again peremptorily. “It’s the Voice! It ain’t human!” But Patricia would not listen, would not stop. She went on climbing, bareheaded, her breath coming in gasps from the altitude and the pace she was trying to keep. Monty looked after her, shouted again. And when he saw that nothing would stop her, he turned back, running to the cabin. There he searched frantically for a canteen, found none and filled an empty beer bottle with water, sliding it into his pocket. Then, with Patricia’s sailor hat in one hand, he started after her. When Patricia was forced to stop and get her breath, the spotted cat appeared suddenly from somewhere among the rocks. She looked up into Patricia’s face and meowed wistfully. “Oh, cat, you led me once to-day--and Gary likes you. He called you Faith. Oh, Faith, where’s Gary? He _is_ up on the bluff, isn’t he? I believe you know! Come on, Faith--help me find Gary!” “Meow-w?” Faith inquired in her own way and hopped upon the bowlder a few feet above Patricia. Patricia, with a hysterical little laugh, followed her. From farther down the bluff Monty shouted, climbing with long steps. Patricia looked back, climbed another rock and stopped to call down to him. “I’m following the cat!” she cried. “Faith is leading me to Gary!” Then she went on.