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A long hour passed by The sun had slanted to a point halfway between the zenith and the horizon Suddenly a thought confronted Ellen Jorth: "He's not comin'," she whispered The instant that idea presented itself she felt a blank sense of loss, a vague regret--so that must have been disappointment Unprepared for this, she was held by surprise for a moment, and then she was stunned Her spirit, swift and rebellious, had no tiuilty,to know her real self She stretched there, burying her face in the pine needles, digging her fingers into theht hide her The moment was incomprehensible to Ellen, and utterly intolerable The sharp pine needles, piercing her wrists and cheeks, and her hot heaving breast, seeive her exquisite relief

The shrill snort of a horse sounded near at hand With a shock Ellen's body stiffened Then she quivered a little and her feelings underwent swift change Cautiously and noiselessly she raised herself upon her elbows and peeped through the opening in the brush She saw aa horse to a bush so a rifle from its saddle sheath he threw it in the hollow of his arazed away across the Basin and appeared lost in conteht Then he turned to look back into the forest, as if he expected soure, the dark face so like an Indian's It was Isbel He had co seemed wonderful and terrible Ellen shook as she leaned on her elbows Jean Isbel, true to his word, in spite of her scorn, had come back to see her The fact seee rumor been bandied from lip to lip--old Gass Isbel had sent for his Indian son to fight the Jorths Jean Isbel--son of a Texan--unerring shot--peerless tracker--a bad and dangerous ht--if it were true, if he was an eneht between Jorth and Isbel was inevitable, she ought to kill this Jean Isbel right there in his tracks as he boldly and confidently waited for her Fool he was to think she would coe treht retreated She had not come to murder a man from ambush, but only to watch hiht, to allay a strange curiosity