"
He swung himself to his saddle. "Good-by."
"Good-by--till we meet again."
"And that will be never. So-long, sheriff. Tell Forbes I've got a
particular engagement in the hills, but I'll be right glad to
meet him when he comes."
He rode up the draw and disappeared over the brow of the hillock.
She caught another glimpse of him a minute later on the summit of
the hill beyond. He waved a hand at her, half-turning in his
saddle as he rode.
Presently she lost him, but faintly the wind swept back to her a
haunting snatch of uncouth song:
"Oh, bury me out on the lone prairee,
In my narrow grave just six by three,"
Were the words drifted to her by the wind. She thought it
pathetically likely he might get the wish of his song.
To Sheriff Forbes, dropping into the draw a few minutes later
with his posse, Collins was a well of misinformation literally
true. Yes, he had followed Miss Mackenzie's trail into the hills
and found her at a mountain ranch-house. She had been there a
couple of days, and was about to set out for the Rocking Chair
with the owner of the place, when he arrived and volunteered to
see her as far as her uncle's ranch.
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