SON OF THE WIND
himself, moving under open skies with men, no matter whom, as long as they obeyed him, at any hour of the day or night, it didn't matter which. But in this case, to the familiar conditions there was added an unfamiliar surrounding. There were mountains where he was accustomed to see plains. He had a few scant days where he was accustomed to use as many weeks, and he saw ahead of him all the difficulties, unexperienced and uncalculated, arising from new conditions. The very trail was unknown to him. Every step he took forward was strange. No time now to look back. His only retrospection was when he reached the place of meeting, and saw the half-breed waiting there—and Ferrier. At the first glimpse, "You little hound!" he thought. He shook inwardly with amusement. Everything the fellow did was ugly, yet somehow it looked trivial. Carron would have liked to pick him up by the collar and pitch him aside, anywhere, down the cañon for instance, but unfortunately it was necessary to have him, a guide and a leader for horses.
Their point of departure from the road was at the very place from which, more than two weeks ago, he had looked longingly up the "Highway of the Gods," felt he was turning aside from the right way, yet thought that way impassable. Had he stepped just off the road and, stooping a little, looked down
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