he scurry and race of hoofs, how many there was no
guessing. Pursuit had started and it was certain that the numbers of
the pursuers would swell swiftly until perhaps a score of Zoraida's
riders were on their track. Kendric settled down to hard riding,
drawing in close to Betty's side.

"We got a couple of minutes on them," he called to her. "That means
we're ahead of them between a quarter and a half mile. In the dark
that's something."

Betty made no answer. They sped on. He tried to see her face but her
hair was flying wildly. He wondered if her terror were freezing the
heart in her. His own sensation at the moment was one of a strange
sort of leaping gladness. After prison walls, this rushing through the
night was like a zestful game. He felt that he had that even break
which was ever all that he asked. If only Betty could feel as he did.

His horse stumbled and then steadied and plunged on. The ground
underfoot was rapidly growing steeper and more broken. The first
slopes of the mountains were beneath them. The horses, though urged
on, were not making their former speed. Now and then dry brush
snatched and whipped at the stirrups; here and there a pine tree stood
up black and still.

And then Kendric knew that the riders behind were gaining on them.
Zoraida's men would know every trail even in the dark, would know all
of the cleared spaces, would thus avoid both brush and steeps. Kendric
turned in the saddle. He made out dimly the foremost of the pursuers
and heard the man's shout to his companions.

"Betty," called Kendric.

"Yes?" she answered, and it struck him that perhaps he had imagined her
terror greater than it actually was; for her voice was quite clear and
even sounded untroubled. "What is it?"

"In ten minutes or so they'll overhaul us. They know the way and we
don't. Further, we're apt to get a spill over a pile of rocks."

"Yes, Jim," she answered. And still her voice failed to tremble as he
had thought it must.

"The old dodge is all that's left us," he told her. "When I say the
word, pull up a little and slide out of the saddle. Let your horse run
on and you duck into the brush."

"And you?"

"I'm with you, of course." And presently, when they were in the
shadows of the ever-steepening mountain side, he called softly: "Now!"

Until then he had never done Betty's horsemanship justice. He saw her
bring her mount down from a flying gallop to a sliding standstill,