a barren,
barren breast. And already she was hungry, daring to eat but sparingly
of her handful of bread and meat.

From this ridge, finding an open crest, she stood looking out over the
world. Mile after mile of mountain and canon and cliff fell away on
every side. She sought eagerly for a landmark: to see yonder in the
distance Old Baldy or Copper Mountain or Three Fools' Peak, any one of
the mountains or ridges known to her. And in the end she could only
shake her head and sigh wearily and slip down where she was to fall
asleep, thanking God that she was free, asking God to lead her aright
in the morning.

The stars watched over her, a pale, worn-out girl sleeping alone in the
heart of the wilderness; the night breezes sang through the century-old
tree-tops; and Judith, having striven to the utter-most, slept in heavy
dreamlessness.

With the cool dawn she awoke shivering and hungry. Her hair had
tumbled about her face, and sitting up she braided it with numb, sore
fingers. She looked at her hands; they well stained with blood from
many cuts. Her skirt was torn and soiled; her stockings were in
strips; her knees were bruised. But as she rose to her feet and once
more searched the riddle of a crag-broken world, her heart was light
with thankfulness.

Last night the one friend she had with her was the north star. To-day
she would seek to push on toward the west. In that direction she
believed the Blue Lake ranch lay, though at best it was a guess. But
going westward she could follow the course of the bigger streams, and
soon or late, if her strength held, she would come to some open valley
where men ran stock. Now, she would go down into the little meadow
lying a mile away yonder and seek to find something to eat. If she
could but dig a few wild onions, wild potatoes, they would keep her
alive. West she would go, if for no other reason than because thus she
would be setting her back squarely upon the cavern where Quinnion and
Ruth were.

The sun rolled into a clear blue sky and warmed her. She made her way
down the long flank of the mountain and into the tiny meadow. For
upward of two hours she remained there, nibbling at roots which she dug
up with a broken stick, seeking edible growths which she knew, finding
little, but enough to keep the life in her, the heart warm in her
breast. Then she went on, over a ridge again, down into a canon and
along the stream which rose here and flowed westward