Over the face of Nash the darkness passed like a cold hand and a colder sense of failure touched his heart; but men who have ridden the range have one great power surpassing all others--the power of patience. As soundlessly as he had pushed himself up the moment before, he now slipped down in the blankets and resigned himself to sleep. He knew that he would wake at the first hint of grey light and trusted that after the long ride of the day before his companion would still be fast asleep. That half light would be enough for his work; but when he roused while the room was still scarcely more visible than if it were filled with a grey fog, he found Bard already up and pulling on his boots. "How'd you sleep?" he growled, following the example of the tenderfoot. "Not very well," said the other cheerily. "You see, that story of yours was so vivid in my mind that I stayed awake about all night, I guess, thinking it over." "I knew it," murmured Nash to himself. "He was awake all the time. And still-----" If that thrown noose of the lariat had settled over the head and shoulders of the sham sleeper it would have made no difference whether he waked or slept--in the end he would have sat before William Drew tied hand and foot. If that noose had not settled? The picture of the little piece of paper fluttering to the floor came back with a strange vividness to the mind of Nash, and he had to shrug his shoulders to shake the thought away. They were in the saddle a very few moments after they awoke and started out, breakfastless. The rain long ago had ceased, and there was only the solemn silence of the brown hills around them--silence, and a faint, crinkling sound as if the thirsty soil still drank. It had been a heavy fall of rain, they could see, for whenever they passed a bare spot where no grass grew, it was crossed by a thick tracery of the rivulets which had washed down the slopes during the night. Soon they reached a little creek whose current, barely knee deep, foamed up around the shoulders of the horses and set them staggering. "The Saverack will be hell," said Nash, "and we'd better cut straight for the ford." "How long will it take?" "Add about three hours to the trip." "Can't do it; remember that little date back in Eldara to-night." "Then look for yourself and make up your mind for yourself," said Nash drily, for they topped a hill, and below them saw a mighty yellow flood pouring down the valley. It went leaping and shouting as if it rejoiced in some destruction it had worked and was still working, and the muddy torrent was threaded with many a ridge of white and swirling with bubbles. "The Saverack," said Nash. "Now what d'you think about fording it?" "If we can't ford it, we can swim it," declared Bard. "Look at that tree-trunk. If that will float I will float, and if I can float I can swim, and if I can swim I'll reach the other bank of that little creek. Won't we, boy?" And he slapped the proud neck of the mustang.