It was nearly midnight when Edgar returned from the settlement and saw, to his surprise, lights still burning in the homestead. Entering the living-room, he found Grierson sitting there with Jake, and it struck him that they looked uneasy.

"What\'s keeping you up?" he asked.

"I thought I\'d wait for the boss," said the Canadian. "He went over to
Grant\'s after supper, and he\'s not come back."

"That\'s curious. He said nothing about going."

"A note came by the mail. It\'s lying yonder."

Edgar picked it up and brought it near the lamp. The paper was good and printed with Grant\'s postal address, which was lengthy.

"I figured I\'d go and meet him," Jake resumed, "Took the shot-gun and rode through the bluff. Didn\'t see anything of him, and it struck me Grant might have kept him all night, as it was getting late. He\'s stayed there before."

Edgar examined the note, for he was far from satisfied. George had only twice spent a night at Grant\'s, once when he was driving cattle, and again when it would have been risky to face the weather. The paper was undoubtedly Grant\'s, but Edgar could not identify the farmer\'s hand; the notes that had come over had been written by Flora. Then he remembered that George had bought some implements from Grant, and had filed the rancher\'s receipt. Edgar hurriedly found it and compared it with the letter. Then his face grew troubled, for the writing was not the same.

"I\'m afraid Mr. Lansing never got to Grant\'s," he said. "I\'ll ride over at once."

"Then I\'m coming," Jake said shortly. "I\'ll bring the gun along."

Grierson lifted a clenched brown hand.

"So am I! If Mr. Lansing\'s hurt, somebody\'s got to pay!"

Edgar was stirred by something in their looks and voices; George had gained a hold on these men\'s loyalty which the regular payment of wages could never have given him. He merely signified assent, and, running out, sprang into the saddle. The others had evidently had their horses ready, for he heard them riding after him in a minute or two, though he was galloping recklessly through the bluff when they came up. The homestead was dark when they reached it, and they shouted once or twice before Grant came down.

"Is George here?" Edgar asked.

"No," said Grant, "we didn\'t expect him."

"Then get on your clothes quick! There\'s work on hand!"

Grant brought him in and struck a light, then hurriedly left the room; and Flora came with him, fully dressed, when he reappeared. Edgar supposed she had heard his sharp inquiry at the door, and he noticed that her expression was strained. He threw the note on the table.

"After what you said, I needn\'t ask if you wrote that."

"I didn\'t," Grant told him. "It\'s not like my hand. I suppose Lansing started when he got it and has not come back?"

"You have guessed right. Where are they likely to have waylaid him, and where will they probably take him?"

"The bluff, sure. They might head north for empty country, or south for the frontier."

"The frontier," Flora broke in.

"It\'s what I think," said Edgar. "Shall I send a man for Flett, or will you?"

"That\'s fixed, anyway," said a voice outside the open door. "We\'re not going."

It was obvious that the hired men had followed them as far as the passage, for Grierson, entering the room, explained:

"He means we\'ve made up our minds to look for Mr. Lansing."

Grant nodded in assent.

"Then my man goes. Turn out the boys, Jake; you know the place. I want three horses saddled, quick."

"Four," said Flora, firmly. "I\'m coming."

Grant did not try to dissuade her.

"Write to Flett," he said.

He went out hastily in search of blankets and provisions, and when he returned, his hired men had gathered about the door and the note was finished. He threw it to one of them.

"Ride with that as hard as you can," he said, and called another,
"You\'ll come with us."

"We\'re a strong party already," Edgar broke in. "You\'re leaving the place poorly guarded, and the rustlers may have counted on something of the kind. Suppose they finish their work by driving off every beast that\'s left as soon as we have gone."

"I\'ve got to take my chances; we\'ll want the boys to make a thorough search."

Grant swung round toward the remaining men.

"You two will watch out behind the woodstack or in the granary. No stranger\'s to come near house or stable."

"The woodpile," said Flora, with a hard white face and an ominous sparkle in her eyes. "You would command the outbuildings there. If anybody tries to creep up at night, call once, and then shoot to kill."

Edgar saw that she meant her instructions to be carried out; but he forced a smile.

"And this is the Canadian wheat-belt, which I was told was so peaceful and orderly!"

"It looks as if you had been misinformed," Flora rejoined with a cold collectedness which he thought of as dangerous. "One, however, now and then hears of violent crime in London."

They were mounted in a few minutes, and after a hard ride the party broke up at dawn, dispersing so that each member of it could make independent search and inquiries at the scattered homesteads. Meeting places and means of communication were arranged; but Flora and her father rode together, pushing on steadily southward over the vast gray plain. Little was said except when they called at some outlying farm, but Grant now and then glanced at the girl\'s set face with keenly scrutinizing eyes. In the middle of the scorching afternoon he suggested that she should await his return at a homestead in the distance, but was not surprised when she uncompromisingly refused. They spent the night at a small ranch, borrowed fresh horses in the morning, and set out again; but they found no trace of the fugitives during the day, and it was evening when Edgar and Grierson joined them, as arranged, at a lonely farm. The two men rode in wearily on jaded horses, and Flora, who was the first to notice their approach, went out to meet them.

"Nothing?" she said, when she saw their dejected faces.

"Nothing," Edgar listlessly answered. "If the people we have seen aren\'t in league with the rustlers—and I don\'t think that\'s probable—the fellows must have gone a different way."

"They\'ve gone south!" Flora insisted. "We may be a little too far to the east of their track."

"Then, we must try a different line of country tomorrow."

The farmer\'s wife had promised to find Flora quarters, the men were offered accommodation in a barn, and when the air cooled sharply in the evening, Edgar walked out on to the prairie with the girl. She had kept near him since his arrival, but he was inclined to believe this was rather on account of his association with George than because she found any charm in his society. By and by, they sat down on a low rise from which they could see the sweep of grass run on, changing to shades of blue and purple, toward the smoky red glare of sunset on its western rim. To the south, it was all dim and steeped in dull neutral tones, conveying an idea of vast distance.

Flora shivered, drawing her thin linen jacket together while she buttoned it, and Edgar noticed something beneath it that broke the outline of her waist.

"What\'s that at your belt?" he asked.

"A magazine pistol," she answered with a rather harsh laugh, producing the beautifully made weapon,

"It\'s a pretty thing. I wonder whether you can use it?"

"Will you stand up at about twenty paces and hold out your hat?"

"Certainly not!" said Edgar firmly. "I wouldn\'t mind putting it on a stick, only that the shot would bring the others out. But I\'ve no doubt you can handle a pistol; you\'re a curious people."

He thought the last remark was justified. Here was a girl, as refined and highly trained in many ways as any he had met, and yet who owned a dangerous weapon and could use it effectively. Then there was her father, an industrious, peaceable farmer, whose attention was, as a rule, strictly confined to the amassing of money, but who was nevertheless capable of riding or shooting down the outlaws who molested him or his friends. What made the thing more striking was that neither of them had been used to alarms; they had dwelt in calm security until the past twelve months. Edgar, however, remembered that they sprang from a stock that had struggled sternly for existence with forest and flood and frost; no doubt, in time of stress, the strong primitive strain came uppermost. Their nature had not been altogether softened by civilization. The thought flung a useful light upon Flora\'s character.

"If the trial\'s a lengthy one and these fellows hold him up until it\'s over, it will be a serious thing for George," he resumed, by way of implying that this was the worst that could befall his comrade. "The grain\'s ripening fast, and he hasn\'t made his arrangements for harvest yet. Men seem pretty scarce around here, just now."

"It\'s a good crop; I\'m glad of that," said Flora, willing to avoid the graver side of the topic. "Mr. Lansing was anxious about it, but this harvest should set him on his............