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the baking grass； his eyes closed dreamily。 He was awakened by
the sound of voices。 They were distant； they were vague； they
approached no nearer。 He rolled himself to the verge of the first
precipitous grassy descent。 There was another bank or plateau
below him； and then a confused depth of olive shadows； pierced here
and there by the spiked helmets of pines。
There was no trace of habitation； yet the voices were those of some
monotonous occupation； and Lance distinctly heard through them the
click of crockery and the ring of some household utensil。 It
appeared to be the interjectional； half listless； half perfunctory；
domestic dialogue of an old man and a girl； of which the words were
unintelligible。 Their voices indicated the solitude of the
mountain； but without sadness； they were mysterious without being
awe…inspiring。 They might have uttered the dreariest commonplaces；
but； in their vast isolation； they seemed musical and eloquent。
Lance drew his first sigh；they had suggested dinner。
Careless as his nature was； he was too cautious to risk detection
in broad daylight。 He contented himself for the present with
endeavoring to locate that particular part of the depths from which
the voices seemed to rise。 It was more difficult； however； to
select some other way of penetrating it than by the stage road。
〃They're bound to have a fire or show a light when it's dark；〃 he
reasoned； and； satisfied with that reflection； lay down again。
Presently he began to amuse himself by tossing some silver coins in
the air。 Then his attention was directed to a spur of the Coast
Range which had been sharply silhouetted against the cloudless
western sky。 Something intensely white； something so small that it
was scarcely larger than the silver coin in his hand； was appearing
in a slight cleft of the range。
While he looked it gradually filled and obliterated the cleft。 In
another moment the whole serrated line of mountain had disappeared。
The dense； dazzling white； encompassing host began to pour over and
down every ravine and pass of the coast。 Lance recognized the sea…
fog； and knew that scarcely twenty miles away lay the oceanand
safety！ The drooping sun was now caught and hidden in its soft
embraces。 A sudden chill breathed over the mountain。 He shivered；
rose； and plunged again for very warmth into the spice…laden
thicket。 The heated balsamic air began to affect him like a
powerful sedative； his hunger was forgotten in the languor of
fatigue； he slumbered。 When he awoke it was dark。 He groped his
way through the thicket。 A few stars were shining directly above
him； but beyond and below； everything was lost in the soft； white；
fleecy veil of fog。 Whatever light or fire might have betokened
human habitation was hidden。 To push on blindly would be madness；
he could only wait for morning。 It suited the outcast's lazy
philosophy。 He crept back again to his bed in the hollow and
slept。 In that profound silence and shadow； shut out from human
association and sympathy by the ghostly fog； what torturing visions
conjured up by remorse and fear should have pursued him？ What
spirit passed before him； or slowly shaped itself out of the
infinite blackness of the wood？ None。 As he slipped gently into
that blackness he remembered with a slight regret； some biscuits
that were dropped from the coach by a careless luncheon…consuming
passenger。 That pang over； he slept as sweetly； as profoundly； as
divinely； as a child。
CHAPTER II。
He awoke with the aroma of the woods still steeping his senses。
His first instinct was that of all young animals； he seized a few
of the young； tender green leaves of the yerba buena vine that
crept over his mossy pillow and ate them； being rewarded by a half
berry…like flavor that seemed to soothe the cravings of his
appetite。 The languor of sleep being still upon him； he lazily
watched the quivering of a sunbeam that was caught in the canopying
boughs above。 Then he dozed again。 Hovering between sleeping and
waking； he became conscious of a slight movement among the dead
leaves on the bank beside the hollow in which he lay。 The movement
appeared to be intelligent； and directed toward his revolver； which
glittered on the bank。 Amused at this evident return of his
larcenous friend of the previous day； he lay perfectly still。 The
movement and rustle continued； but it now seemed long and
undulating。 Lance's eyes suddenly became set； he was intensely；
keenly awake。 It was not a snake； but the hand of a human arm；
half hidden in the moss； groping for the weapon。 In that flash of
perception he saw that it was small； bare； and deeply freckled。 In
an instant he grasped it firmly； and rose to his feet； dragging to
his own level as he did so； the struggling figure of a young girl。
〃Leave me go！〃 she said； more ashamed than frightened。
Lance looked at her。 She was scarcely more than fifteen； slight
and lithe； with a boyish flatness of breast and back。 Her flushed
face and bare throat were absolutely peppered with minute brown
freckles； like grains of spent gunpowder。 Her eyes； which were
large and gray； presented the singular spectacle of being also
freckled；at least they were shot through in pupil and cornea
with tiny spots like powdered allspice。 Her hair was even more
remarkable in its tawny； deer…skin color； full of lighter shades；
and bleached to the faintest of blondes on the crown of her head；
as if by the action of the sun。 She had evidently outgrown her
dress； which was made for a smaller child； and the too brief skirt
disclosed a bare； freckled； and sandy desert of shapely limb； for
which the darned stockings were equally too scant。 Lance let his
grasp slip from her thin wrist to her hand； and then with a good…
humored gesture tossed it lightly back to her。
She did not retreat； but continued looking at him in a half…surly
embarrassment。
〃I ain't a bit frightened；〃 she said； 〃I'm not going to run away；
don't you fear。〃
〃Glad to hear it；〃 said Lance； with unmistakable satisfaction； 〃but
why did you go for my revolver？〃
She flushed again and was silent。 Presently she began to kick the
earth at the roots of the tree； and said； as if confidentially to
her foot；
〃I wanted to get hold of it before you did。〃
〃You did？and why？〃
〃Oh； you know why。〃
Every tooth in Lance's head showed that he did； perfectly。 But he
was discreetly silent。
〃I didn't know what you were hiding there for；〃 she went on； still
addressing the tree； 〃and；〃 looking at him sideways under her white
lashes； 〃I didn't see your face。〃
This subtle compliment was the first suggestion of her artful sex。
It actually sent the blood into the careless rascal's face； and for
a moment confused him。 He coughed。 〃So you thought you'd freeze
on to that six…shooter of mine until you saw my hand？〃
She nodded。 Then she picked up a broken hazel branch； fitted it
into the small of her back； threw her tanned bare arms over the
ends of it； and expanded her chest and her biceps at the same
moment。 This simple action was supposed to convey an impression at
once of ease and muscular force。
〃Perhaps you'd like to take it now；〃 said Lance； handing her the
pistol。
〃I've seen six…shooters before now；〃 said the girl； evading the
proffered weapon and its suggestion。 〃Dad has one； and my brother
had two derringers before he was half as big as me。〃
She stopped to observe in her companion the effect of this capacity
of her family to bear arms。 Lance only regarded her amusedly。
Presently she again spoke abruptly：
〃What made you eat that grass； just now？〃
〃Grass！〃 echoed Lance。
〃Yes； there；〃 pointing to the yerba buena。
Lance laughed。 〃I was hungry。 Look！〃 he said； gayly tossing some
silver into the air。 〃Do you think you could get me some breakfast
for that； and have enough left to buy something for yourself？〃
The girl eyed the money and the man with half…bashful curiosity。
〃I reckon Dad might give ye suthing if he had a mind ter； though ez
a rule he's down on tramps ever since they run off his chickens。
Ye might try。〃
〃But I want YOU to try。 You can bring it to me here。〃
The girl retreated a step； dropped her eyes； and； with a smile that
was a charming hesitation between bashfulness and impudence； said：
〃So you ARE hidin'； are ye？〃
〃That's just it。 Your head's level。 I am；〃 laughed Lance
unconcernedly。
〃Yur ain't one o' the McCarty gangare ye？〃
Mr。 Lance Harriott felt a momentary moral exaltation in declaring
truthfully that he was not one of a notorious band of mountain
freebooters known in the district under that name。
〃Nor ye ain't one of them chicken lifters that raided Henderson's
ranch？ We don't go much on that kind o' cattle yer。〃
〃No；〃 said Lance； cheerfully。
〃Nor ye ai