ain her trust and so to slip away. But she found that here was the
usual cunning born of madness, and that Ruth's one idea was to keep the
girl who had escaped her once but who must never escape again. There
were times when suspicion awakened in Ruth's mind, and she broke into
violent rage, so that her big body shook and her eyes in the
lantern-light were cruel and murderous, when Judith shrank back, and
tried to change the woman's thoughts. For more than once had Mad Ruth
cried out:

"I'll kill you! Kill you with my own hands to keep you here. To keep
you mine, mine, mine!"

The woman carried no weapon, but after her two hands had once gripped
the girl's shoulders, shaking her, Judith knew that Ruth needed no
weapon. Hers was a strength greater than Trevors's, greater than two
men's. If Mad Ruth saw fit to kill Judith with her two hands, she
could do it.

Sunday passed and Sunday night; Monday and Monday night. Judith knew
that she had accomplished nothing, except perhaps to make Ruth believe
that she was very much of a coward. In Ruth's mad brain that was
little enough, since this did not allay her cunning watchfulness. Then
Judith began to do something else, something actively. Just to be
occupied, was something. Her fingers selected the largest, thickest
branch from her bed of fir-boughs. It was perhaps a couple of inches
in diameter and heavy, because it was green. Silently, cautious of a
twig snapped, she began with her fingers to strip the branch, tough and
pliable. Then the limb must be cut into a length which would make it a
club to be used in a cramped space. She found a bit of stone, hard
granite, which had scaled from the walls and which had a rough edge.
With this, working many a quiet hour, she at last cut in two the
fir-bough. She lifted it in her hands, to feel the weight of it,
before she thrust it under her bed to lie hidden there against possible
need. Poor thing as it was, she felt no longer utterly defenseless.

Once Mad Ruth, lighting the lantern, had dropped a good match. When
she had gone, Judith secured it hastily, hiding it as if it were gold.
She knew that now and then Mad Ruth went down the cliffs and to the
cabin across the chasm. Always at night and at the darkest hour. When
she heard her go, Judith rose swiftly and went to the heavy door.
Always she found it locked; her shaking at it hardly budged the heavy
timbers. But though she could not see it, she studied i