"The _hollow rock_!" A small gray object, dwarfed by the distance, stood out against a smear of dark green on the crest of the high ground.

After studying it for a few moments Thirlwell nodded.
"Yes; I think he's right." Drummond turned to Agatha with a sparkle in his eyes.

"I quit now, Miss Strange.

You've got there ahead of Stormont; I guess I've made good!" "You made good when you found the broken range," Agatha replied, giving him a grateful look, and Drummond's dark face flushed with color as he turned away.
They lost the rock as they went down hill, but when they made camp the roar of falling water came faintly across the woods.
"_The creek that runs south_!" said Thirlwell as he lighted the fire.
They started early next morning, but the ground was rough and the sun was getting low when they came down a rocky hill into a small round hollow, through which shining water flowed.

The opposite slope was in shadow, but the slanting sunbeams touched a belt of fresh growth that glowed a vivid green against the somber color of the surrounding trees.
"That," said Thirlwell, "is, no doubt, where the rampikes stood.