e edge of
the forest.

Helen wondered why the big pines grew so far on that plain and no
farther. Probably the growth had to do with snow, but, as the ground
was level, she could not see why the edge of the woods should come just
there.

They rode into the forest.

To Helen it seemed a strange, critical entrance into another world,
which she was destined to know and to love. The pines were big,
brown-barked, seamed, and knotted, with no typical conformation except
a majesty and beauty. They grew far apart. Few small pines and little
underbrush flourished beneath them. The floor of this forest appeared
remarkable in that it consisted of patches of high silvery grass and
wide brown areas of pine-needles. These manifestly were what Roy
had meant by pine-mats. Here and there a fallen monarch lay riven or
rotting. Helen was presently struck with the silence of the forest and
the strange fact that the horses seldom made any sound at all, and when
they did it was a cracking of dead twig or thud of hoof on log. Likewise
she became aware of a springy nature of the ground. And then she saw
that the pine-mats gave like rubber cushions under the hoofs of the
horses, and after they had passed sprang back to place again, leaving no
track. Helen could not see a sign of a trail they left behind. Indeed,
it would take a sharp eye to follow Dale through that forest. This
knowledge was infinitely comforting to Helen, and for the first time
since the flight had begun she felt a lessening of the weight upon mind
and heart. It left her free for some of the appreciation she might have
had in this wonderful ride under happier circumstances.

Bo, however, seemed too young, too wild, too intense to mind what the
circumstances were. She responded to reality. Helen began to suspect
that the girl would welcome any adventure, and Helen knew surely now
that Bo was a true Auchincloss. For three long days Helen had felt a
constraint with which heretofore she had been unfamiliar; for the last
hours it had been submerged under dread. But it must be, she concluded,
blood like her sister's, pounding at her veins to be set free to race
and to burn.

Bo loved action. She had an eye for beauty, but she was not
contemplative. She was now helping Dale drive the horses and hold them
in rather close formation. She rode well, and as yet showed no symptoms
of fatigue or pain. Helen began to be aware of both, but not enough yet
to limit her interest.

A won