An owl's insistent who-o-o-o-whup which had been the pulse beat of the night was stilled so suddenly that the whole void between earth and dimming stars seemed to hang breathless for its repetition. A coyote with his early-morning kill between his paws sent quavering through the half light a meat call to a mate. Dawn came swiftly.
It found Original sitting a borrowed horse atop the highest butte in Bad Water Breaks, waiting for light. He was alone. He had ridden all night crisscrossing over the Big Country that lies between Two Moons and Teapot Creek, seeking Hilma Ring, whom he believed lost.
After the sudden savage apparition of the girl who rode him down in the Fashion Stables and cut him with the bridle rein Original had saddled the first horse to hand, left a brief note explaining his action on Lonny Moore's slate and started across the Poison Spider bridge in pursuit. The girl had, perhaps, ten minutes' start of him. Between the bridge and Twenty Mile Creek there was but a single road with no forking. Believing Hilma was making for her home, the man confidently expected to overhaul her before she reached the ford of
