an, young, but with something in
his face that made her shudder. Her heart stood still for a moment,
after that first wild leap. Then she realized that he was asking her
for money, and she commanded her voice to answer.

"I haven't any."

It was true. When she rode with her father or brother it never occurred
to Norah to carry money, and she wore nothing of value at all to tempt
any thief. Her hunting-crop was silver mounted; she remembered it
suddenly, glad that it was dark and that the man would not be likely to
notice the gift that had been Jim's.

"I don't believe y'," he said.

"Well, you can, then," Norah answered. She was beginning to recover
herself, a little ashamed of that first moment of unreasoning terror.
If she had no money he would surely let her go. She scarcely knew the
meaning of fear--how should she, in the free, simple life that had
always been guarded, yet had left her only a little child in mind? "I
haven't so much as a penny," she went on. "Let go my bridle."

"What are y' doin' here alone?" The slow voice was crafty; something in
it brought back that stupid first fear. She pulled herself together.

"My people are coming--you'd better let go. If my brother gets hold of
you--"

"Oh, your brother's comin', is he?"

"Yes; let go my bridle."

"Shut up about your bridle!" said the man, and Norah shrank back as if
she had been stung. He began to lead Bobs off the track.

"What are you doing?" she asked angrily. She kicked Bobs again, and the
pony tried to rear, caught between the sudden blow and that compelling
hand on his rein. The man pulled him down savagely, jerking at his bit
and flinging threats at him and at Norah.

"Y' might as well stop playin' the fool," he told her. "I want that
pony, an' I'm goin' to have it."

TO HAVE BOBS! She tried to speak, but the words died before she could
utter them. Bobs! In her bewildered terror she scarcely realized for a
moment what he meant; then she raised her whip and cut with all her
strength at the hand that held the rein. He gave a sharp yell of pain
as the stinging whalebone caught him, but he did not relinquish his
grasp, and Norah struck at him again and again, half blindly in the
darkness, but always with the strength of desperation. It could not
last long--the struggle was too pitifully unequal. It was only a minute
before he had wrested the whip from her and held her wrists in one
vice-like hand. His voice was thick with rage.

"I'll