CHAPTER V.
Bent Wade rode out of the forest to look down upon the White Slides country at the hour when it was most beautiful.
"Never seen the beat of that!" he exclaimed, as he halted.
The hour was sunset, with the golden rays and shadows streaking ahead of him down the rolling sage hills, all rosy and gray with rich, strange softness.

Groves of aspens stood isolated from one another--here crowning a hill with blazing yellow, and there fringing the brow of another with gleaming gold, and lower down reflecting the sunlight with brilliant red and purple.

The valley seemed filled with a delicate haze, almost like smoke.

White Slides Ranch was hidden from sight, as it lay in the bottomland.

The gray old peak towered proud and aloof, clear-cut and sunset-flushed against the blue.