Aaron and I will ride up there, on the chance." "You'll stop in on your way back ?" called the rancher, as the two horsemen moved away.
"Sure," answered the Ranger.
An hour later, they were back.

They had found the old home under the giant sycamores, on the edge of the little clearing, dark and untenanted.
Lights were shining, now, from the windows of the Carleton ranch-house.
Down at the corral, the twinkling gleam of a lantern bobbed here and there.

As the Ranger and his companion drew near, the lantern came rapidly up the hill.

At the porch, they were met by Henry Carleton, his two sons, and a ranch hand.

As the four stood in the light of the window, and of the lantern on the porch, listening to Brian Oakley's report, each held the bridle-reins of a saddle-horse.
"I figured that the chance of her being up there was so mighty slim that we'd better be ready to ride when you got back," said the mountain ranchman.