At seven o'clock he was ready to take up the trail.
He believed now that some mysterious and potent force had restrained Bram Johnson from taking advantage of the splendid opportunity of that night to rid himself of an enemy.

As he made his way through the scrub timber along the edge of the Barren it was with the feeling that he no longer desired Bram as a prisoner.

A thing more interesting than Bram had entered into the adventure.

It was the golden snare.

Not with Bram himself, but only at the end of Bram's trail, would he find what the golden snare stood for.