To his surprise she was half a mile away, galloping back toward the ranch. Always nervous around guns, she had jerked loose at the shooting, and run away. And she might have kept on going; but suddenly some one on horseback galloped out of the trees at the old ford crossing, and taking in the situation, struck straight for the runaway. It was Alta Morgan, who, returning from her ride, had taken the shorter way home. Brownie saw her coming, whirled and headed back toward the hills; but Eagle gradually overtook her. Fred, watching eagerly, saw the girl loose her lasso, whirl and fling it over the little mare’s head. Checked suddenly at the saddle horn, she turned humbly and came trotting back to her master led by the daring girl. “Thank you very much,” said Fred, “but you shouldn’t have risked yourself so to save me a chase.” “Oh, Eagle wouldn’t fall with me, would you?” she said, patting his warm neck. “He is certainly a fine pony; and you surely know how to ride and to throw a lasso,” was Fred’s complimentary response. “But how can I repay you for this kindness?” “Just come to our dance to-night.” “Thank you; I’ll be there.” “Now mind that you do,” she said lightly, turning to leave. “Good-by.” “Good-by,” he responded reluctantly, captivated by her wildly sweet ways. She dashed off through the sage on her nimble pony. Fred intended fully to keep his promise, but his hunt for more chickens led him several miles from the ranch up into the eastern foothills, and before he realized how the day was slipping by the sun had almost set. The eastern slopes, with all their wondrous forms brought into relief by the evening shadows, and the mountain tops, lighted by the golden glow of the sinking sun, made so beautiful a picture that the boy stopped to enjoy it. As he sat there resting, with leg flung over the saddle horn, drinking in the cool scented breezes that had begun to pour out of the canyons, he noticed just above him to the eastward a kind of glen that opened gently with grassy, flower-strewn, aspen-groved slopes on to the flat below. Farther up the sides were ragged rocks and pines; and just above the hill over which the shorter trail led into the glen, was a rather bold cliff. Fred thought he saw smoke rising up the face of the cliff. He looked again more sharply; no smoke could be seen. Perhaps his eyes had deceived him; but he was curious now to explore further. “How about it, Brownie? Shall we find out what the place looks like?” It was his habit sometimes to think out loud around Brownie. She did not seem to object, so they began to climb slowly up the hillside. The smoke appeared again; there was no mistaking it this time. The thought flashed across him, “Perhaps it is Indians.” He checked his mare. If it should be, Fred had no desire to meet them alone in this strange place, especially since he had heard they were in an ugly temper just then because the game wardens had been checking them in their killing the elk and deer.