ent roared away, the fine mist blew, the clouds lifted and
separated, and, closing again, darkened for another onslaught. This one
brought sleet. The driving pellets stung Helen's neck and cheeks, and
for a while they fell so thick and so hard upon her back that she was
afraid she could not hold up under them. The bare places on the ground
showed a sparkling coverlet of marbles of ice.

Thus, storm after storm rolled over Helen's head. Her feet grew numb
and ceased to hurt. But her fingers, because of her ceaseless efforts
to keep up the circulation, retained the stinging pain. And now the wind
pierced right through her. She marveled at her endurance, and there were
many times that she believed she could not ride farther. Yet she kept
on. All the winters she had ever lived had not brought such a day as
this. Hard and cold, wet and windy, at an increasing elevation--that was
the explanation. The air did not have sufficient oxygen for her blood.

Still, during all those interminable hours, Helen watched where she was
traveling, and if she ever returned over that trail she would recognize
it. The afternoon appeared far advanced when Dale and Roy led down into
an immense basin where a reedy lake spread over the flats. They rode
along its margin, splashing up to the knees of the horses. Cranes and
herons flew on with lumbering motion; flocks of ducks winged swift
flight from one side to the other. Beyond this depression the land
sloped rather abruptly; outcroppings of rock circled along the edge of
the highest ground, and again a dark fringe of trees appeared.

How many miles! wondered Helen. They seemed as many and as long as
the hours. But at last, just as another hard rain came, the pines
were reached. They proved to be widely scattered and afforded little
protection from the storm.

Helen sat her saddle, a dead weight. Whenever Ranger quickened his gait
or crossed a ditch she held on to the pommel to keep from falling
off. Her mind harbored only sensations of misery, and a persistent
thought--why did she ever leave home for the West? Her solicitude for Bo
had been forgotten. Nevertheless, any marked change in the topography
of the country was registered, perhaps photographed on her memory by the
torturing vividness of her experience.

The forest grew more level and denser. Shadows of twilight or gloom lay
under the trees. Presently Dale and Roy, disappeared, going downhill,
and likewise Bo. Then Helen's ears suddenly