But I didn't tempt him, though I did tempt fate.

I went over to the little butte, climbed it pensively, and sat on the flat rock and gazed forlornly at the mouth of the pass.
I had the rock to myself, but I made a discovery that set the nerves of me jumping like a man just getting over a--well, a season of dissipation.

In the sandy soil next the rock were many confused footprints--the prints of little riding-boots; and they looked quite fresh.

She had been there, all right, and I had missed her! I swore, and wondered what she must think of me.

Then I had an inspiration.