The point of
light was held by all. It was dwelt upon. It was the verification
needed to convey absolute faith in the woman's tale miraculous.
Perhaps it was the light in some window of a secret abode. Perhaps it
was the steady flicker of an unscreened camp-fire. Perhaps, even, it
was the beam of some lantern carelessly set down and left alight.
Whatever it was it was certainly of human agency, and human agency in
these regions had only one interpretation for the minds of those who
were watching from the high eastern wall of the valley.
Presently a woman's voice spoke in the hush of suppressed excitement.
Her tone was full of an eagerness that hurled her words swiftly upon
the still night air.
"That's where I marked them down," she whispered. "There--just there.
Right where that light's shining. Somewhere in the heart of that
bluff. There was a herd grazing out in front, with three mounted men
guarding it. There's no mistake. It's a bee-line right across. And
the men who fired up this way came out of those trees.
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