"How?"

"There's a trail, what's left of it. The Warpath, they call it."

"The Warpath?"

"Yes. It was first a war trail, when fighting tribes lived in these mountains. But even the Indians didn't use it often--only in midsummer. It's a trail over bare rocks, marked by stones set up at long intervals. The Indians didn't mark it. They had their own ways of knowing it. But after the Indians came trappers, hunters, prospectors, and some of them set up the stones. It would be a valuable short cut between the Park and the San Luis country, if it were safe. But it's not. I'm told that many lives have been lost on it. I can't find details except of one tragedy. Some ten years ago a party of English people, guests at the ranch that Haig now owns, went on a pleasure trip to Thunder Mountain. They meant to go only as far as timber line.

It's not difficult as far as the foot of the scarp that lifts to the flat top you see yonder. It's done on horseback to that point--and across too, if you care to try it. But on top--that's another matter.

It isn't the mountain itself that gets you. It's the storms. The English party ventured on top, and three of them never came back. The wind hurled them into a chasm, and their bodies were never recovered.

That's enough for me, thank you!"

"Has n.o.body in the Park ever been across?" Marion persisted.

"Old Parker--Jim Parker's father--crossed it once, many years ago. But he came back another way, around by Tellurium. Young Parker has been as far as the Devil's Chair. That's the top of the notch where the wind sucks you into it--unless, by good chance, it blows you away from it."

"And no one else?" Marion insisted, breathless.

"One other man has gone to the Twin Sisters. That's halfway over."

"Who was that?" she asked; as if she did not know.

"He balked at the women, you see."

Smythe chuckled.

"The Twin Sisters," Smythe went on, "are two huge gray rocks, I'm told, vaguely resembling carved figures. The trail pa.s.ses between them. There's no other possible way, and when the wind is blowing it shoots out between them like water from a fire-hose. Haig was caught just there by a storm. He came back fighting mad, and swore he'd cross Thunder Mountain yet, or die there. But that reminds me. I've got news for you."

"News?" asked Marion, with a start.

Her first thought was of Sunnysides. Had Haig decided not to wait for Farrish? But no! It would be something about yesterday's sensation.

"It keeps well, I see," she said lightly.

"I didn't want to excite you so soon after that long climb."

"Thank you! If you think I can't stand it you just keep it to yourself--if you can!"

"But I came expressly to tell you."

"Then why don't you expressly tell me? Don't be exasperating, Mr.

Smythe!"

He grinned exultantly.

"Well," he said, "I've been eavesdropping."

"What?"

"Not intentionally. Pure accident. But I didn't stick my fingers in my ears."

"No, I can understand that."

"Thanks. It was this way: I was fishing--for fish, really. Under a clump of willows, just where the road from Haig's joins the main valley road. You know?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Haig and another man, Higgins, it turned out to be--he's a Denver lawyer--with his family for an outing down at Cobalt Lake. It appeared he'd been up to see Haig partly on business and partly just for a friendly visit. They separated there, after a little conversation.

"'It's strange you've never heard a word from him,' said Higgins.

"'Four years,' answered Haig.

"'He's probably off in South Africa somewhere.'

"'Or India. It's a long trail be followed, no doubt.'

"'You can only wait, I suppose,' Higgins said.

"'Well, I've nothing else to do,' Haig replied, with a laugh." Smythe paused.

"That's something to think about," he said musingly. "Who is this 'he'? And why is Haig waiting for him? Well, that was all I heard about that. Higgins next asked Haig if he wouldn't please change his mind about riding down to see them.

"'No,' Haig answered. 'I never go anywhere. I'm not very sociable, no longer a gregarious creature. Ask my neighbors about that!'

"'Oh, hang your neighbors! This is different. We're not living here, and we can't pester you. But you see I got Hail Columbia from my wife for not bringing you to see her in Denver, and she's dead set on getting acquainted with you here. She says you're the most unselfish man in the world. I'd be jealous if--'

"'Oh, come now!' protested Haig, laughing.

"'It's true. So you'll drop this hermit business for once, won't you?

It will give my wife much pleasure.'

"There was a little silence.

"'Well, have your own way,' said Haig at last 'I suppose a man's got to humor his lawyer, if he doesn't want to lose a plain case some day.

But I warn you. I'm not very amusing, that is, I trust not.'

"'Good!' cried Higgins. 'We'll not keep you long. The day after to-morrow, shall we say? Right! Now good-by! And don't let Huntington pot you--before you've seen Mrs. Higgins.'

"They both laughed at that. Higgins drove off down the valley in his road wagon, and Haig galloped toward home. And then I found a trout had run away with my hook. Big fellow too, and clever as Satan.

Scuttled away under a rock and worked loose before I could get after him. But it was a good day's fishing just the same, don't you think?"

She did not reply at once; and Smythe discreetly busied himself tossing stones at an impertinent chipmunk that popped in and out among the rocks and fallen limbs.

"Have you seen this Mrs. Higgins?" asked Marion suddenly.

"No," Smythe answered gravely, though his eyes twinkled wickedly. "But Higgins is sixty at least, and I fancy his wife's too old to be--" A warning look checked him. "But really, Miss g.a.y.l.o.r.d, you ought not to jump down my throat after I've brought you such an interesting knot for your pretty hands to untie."

She laughed at his lugubrious countenance, then stood up, and reached out a hand to him, letting him hold it for just a breath of time.