wer part of his body struggling to outstrip the
rest of him. He had an impression of some great depth below him,
though he knew he saw nothing, heard nothing. There came a great jolt.
He lurched on to the animal's neck, recovered himself, and, the next
instant, the old desperate gallop was going on as before.

He looked back and shivered as he saw the gaping rift behind him. The
jump had been terrific, and, as he realized the marvel of the feat, he
leaned over and patted the mare's reeking shoulder. She had performed
an act after her own wild heart.

And Tresler laughed aloud at the thought. He could afford to laugh
now, for he saw the end of his journey coming. He had landed on the
trail he had lost, in all probability the continuation across the
river of the branch road he had missed on the other side, and this was
heading directly for the hill before him. More, he could see it
winding its way up the hill. Even the Lady Jezebel, he thought, would
find that ascent more than to her liking.

And he was right. She faced it and breasted it like the lion-hearted
animal she was, but the loose sandy surface, and the abruptness of the
incline, first brought her to a series of plunges, and finally to her
knees and a dead halt.

And Tresler was out of the saddle in an instant, and drew the reins
over her head, while she, now quite subdued, struggled to her feet.
She was utterly blown, and her master was little better. They stood
together on that hillside and rested.

Now the man had a full view of the river below, and he realized the
jump that the mare had made. And, further down, he beheld an
astonishing sight. At a point where the course of the river narrowed,
a rough bridge of pine-logs had been thrown across it. He stood for
some minutes contemplating the scene and busy with his thoughts, which
at last culminated in a question uttered aloud--

"Where on earth does it lead to?"

And he turned and surveyed the point, where, higher up, the trail
vanished round the hillside above him. The question voiced a natural
curiosity which he promptly proceeded to satisfy. Linking his arm
through the reins, he led the mare up the hill.

It was a laborious climb. Even free of her burden the horse had
difficulty in keeping her feet. The sandy surface was deep, and poured
away at every step like the dry sand on the seashore. And as they
labored up, Tresler's wonder increased at every step. Why had such a
trail been made, and where-