while he
spoke; but when she also turned and gazed helplessly at the woods
encircling her, his glance stole toward her.

"You're not scared, are you?" he asked, and then laughed abruptly.

"Not in the slightest."

"Sure! You're a perfectly good sport.... I'll tell you--I'll leave my
horse for one of my men to hunt up later, and we'll start off together
on a good old-fashioned hike! Are you game?"

"Yes--if I only knew--if you were perfectly sure how to get to the edge
of the woods. I don't see how you _can_ be lost in your own woods--"

"I don't believe I am!" he said, laughing violently. "The Estwich road
_must_ be over in that direction. Come ahead, Miss West; the birds can
cover us up if worst comes to worst!"

She went with him, entering the thicker growth with a quick, vigorous
little stride as though energy and rapidity of motion could subdue the
misgiving that threatened to frighten her sooner or later.

Over logs, boulders, gulleys, she swung forward, he supporting her from
time to time in spite of her hasty assurance that she did not require
aid.

Once, before she could prevent it, he grasped her and fairly swung her
across a gulley; and again, as she gathered herself to jump, his
powerful arm slipped around her body and he lowered her to the moss
below, leaving her with red cheeks and a rapid heart to climb the
laurel-choked ravine beside him.

It was breathless work; again and again, before she could prevent it, he
forced his assistance on her; and in the abrupt, almost rough contact
there was something that began at last to terrify her--weaken her--so
that, at the top of the slope, she caught breathless at a tree and
leaned against the trunk for a moment, closing her eyes.

"You poor little girl," he breathed close to her ear; and as her
startled eyes flew open, he drew her into his arms.

For a second his congested face and prominent, pale eyes swam before
her; then with a convulsive gasp she wrenched herself partly free and
strained away from his grasp, panting.

"Let me go, Mr. Cardemon!"

"Look here, Valerie, you know I'm crazy about you--"

"Will you let me go?"

"Oh, come, little girl, I know who you are, all right! Be a good little
sport and--"

"Let me go," she whispered between her teeth. Then his red, perspiring
features--the prominent eyes and loose mouth drew nearer--nearer--and
she struck blindly at the face with her dog-whip--twice with the lash
and once with the stag-horn