And, lifting his hands to his mouth, he sent out a stentorian yell that rolled up the slope, rang against the cliffs, pealed and broke and died away.

Then he waited, listening.

From far up the slope came a faint, wild cry, high-pitched and sweet, to create strange echoes, floating away to die in the ravines.
"She's after him!" declared Dale, grimly.
"Bo's got your rifle," said Helen.

"Oh, we must hurry." "You go back," ordered Dale, wheeling his horse.
"No!" Helen felt that word leave her lips with the force of a bullet.
Dale spurred Ranger and took to the open slope.

Helen kept at his heels until timber was reached.