ing he was soon to be started out. He sensed that men had means of communication which were beyond his comprehension. This paper was a message—a understanding between these two, delivered through his medium. He had no conception whatever of the written word. When the paper was held out to him he invariably tested it with nose instead of eyes. His most dependable sense was that of smell. There must be some scent to this paper by which these two read its significance. For a time he sniffed longingly at each paper but its scent told him nothing and at last he gave it up. His was not the mind of man—the mind which ever strives to fathom the very things that smack of mystery. There was no least particle of use to excite himself over what he knew to be beyond his understanding. He was content to carry this thing because they willed it so.
The little nose of the canyon wall which Moran had picked that first morning afforded a wonderful outlook over a wide expanse of country and the girl spent much time there with him.
Flash knew that a change had come into the relations of these two. That first strangeness had been swept away. He sensed a new, sweet current in its place, felt its growth from day to day.
