guarded. But of course she ran the risk of Blatch himself
or some of his friends and followers appearing. And now she held her
breath in intense anxiety as the trampling came nearer.

There appeared out of the dense shadow of the bluff a man walking and
leading a mule by its bridle. She knew the mule, because she got the
silhouette of it against the sky, and directly after she saw that the man
who led it was tall, with a bandaged head, which he carried in a manner
unmistakable, and one shoulder gleaming white--she guessed that that was
because his coat was off where the bandages lay under his white shirt and
over the wound in his shoulder. It was Creed. With a throb of unspeakable
thankfulness she realised that she had till now dreaded that if he came
at all Huldah would be with him. She moved out from the dense shadow.

"Whar--whar's Huldy?" she questioned before she would trust herself to
believe. But Creed, full of the wonder of her message, dropped the mule's
bridle and came toward her his uninjured arm outstretched. He put the
inquiry by almost impatiently.

"Huldah? She went on down to Hepzibah soon Saturday morning," he said. "O
Judith, did you mean it--that word you sent me by Little Buck?"

He came swiftly up to her, snatching her hand eagerly, pressing it hard
against his breast, leaning close in the twilight to study her face.

"You couldn't mean it," he hurried on passionately, tremulously, "not
now; you just pity me. Little Buck cried when he told me what you said,
honey. He was jealous. But he needn't have been--need he Judith? You just
pity me."

Creed's manner and his words were instant reassurance to Judith's womanly
pride. But immediately on the relaxation of that pain rose clamouring her
anxiety for his safety--his life.

"Yes, yes, Creed," she murmured vehemently. "I did mean it--I sure meant
every word of it. But we got to get right away from here. Do ye reckon ye
can stand it to ride as far as the foot of the mountain? Ye got to
go--and I'm here to take ye."

They drew out of the path and into the deep blackness beneath the trees.
There was but a hundredth chance that anybody would be passing here, or
watching this point, yet that hundredth chance must be guarded against.

Poor Creed, he detained her, he clung to her hands hungrily, and invoked
the sound of her voice. So much hate had daunted him, the strength and
sweetness of her presence, the warm tenderness of her tones, were like
balm