spot beside the wall of the hut. Her cramped limbs refused
to support her body, and her eyes, then open, yet retained that vacant
look so noticeable from the first. The only change was in the puzzled
way with which she stared into our faces, as though memory might be
struggling back, and she was vaguely endeavoring to understand. Except
for this pathetic look, she had never appeared more attractive to my
eyes, with color in cheeks and lips. Her hood had fallen backward,
revealing her glossy hair still smoothly brushed, while the brilliancy of
the sunlight only made more manifest the delicate beauty of her features.
Tim led the horses away and staked them out where they could crop the
rich, dewy grass. After removing the saddles, he followed the mulatto
girl into the hut, and I could hear the murmur of their voices. I
endeavored to address Eloise, seeking thus to awaken her to some sense of
my presence, but she merely smiled meaninglessly, leaned her head wearily
back against the poles and closed her eyes.

It was a poor meal enough, although it sufficed to dull hunger, and yield
us some strength. Eloise succeeded in choking down a few morsels, but
drank thirstily. It was pitiful to watch her, and to mark the constant
effort she was making to force the return of memory. Her eyes, dull,
uncomprehending, wandered continually from face to face in our little
group, but no flash of intelligence lighted up their depths. I had Elsie
bathe her face with water and while, no doubt, this refreshed her
somewhat, she only rested her head back on my coat, which I had folded
for a pillow, and again closed her heavy eyes. The negress appeared so
tired I bade her lie down and sleep, and soon after Tim also disappeared.
I remained there alone, guarding the woman I loved.

I myself had reason enough to be weary, yet was not conscious of the
slightest desire to rest. My mind did not crave sleep. That Eloise had
been drugged for a purpose was now beyond controversy, but what the
nature of that drug might be, and how it could be combated, were beyond
my power to determine. Even if I knew, the only remedies at hand were
water and fresh air. And how were we to escape, burdened by this
helpless girl, from pursuit, which, perhaps, had already started from
Yellow Banks? At all hazards I must now prevent this dazed, stupified
woman from ever again falling into the power of Joe Kirby. That was the
one fact I knew. I would rather ki