Cautiously and noiselessly she raised herself upon her elbows and peeped through the opening in the brush.

She saw a man tying a horse to a bush somewhat back from the Rim.

Drawing a rifle from its saddle sheath he threw it in the hollow of his arm and walked to the edge of the precipice.

He gazed away across the Basin and appeared lost in contemplation or thought.

Then he turned to look back into the forest, as if he expected some one.
Ellen recognized the lithe figure, the dark face so like an Indian's.
It was Isbel.