have
their rendezvous located, and 'Black Bart' will have a private grudge to
revenge. I wonder if he suspects who attacked him! But don't worry, Miss
Hope; we have miles the start, and the wind has been strong enough to
cover our trail. Do you see that dark irregularity ahead?"

"Yes; is it a cloud?"

"No; the Arkansas sand dunes. I am going to try to keep the horses
moving until we arrive there. Then we will halt and eat whatever Neb has
packed behind him, and rest for an hour or two. You look very tired,
but I hope you can keep up for that distance. We shall be safely out of
sight then."

"Indeed, I am tired; the strain of waiting alone in that cabin, and
all that happened last night, have tried me severely. But--but I can go
through."

Her voice proved her weakness, although it was determined enough, and
Keith, yielding to sudden impulse, put out his hand, and permitted it to
rest upon hers, clasped across the pommel. Her eyes drooped, but there
was no change of posture.

"Your nerve is all right," he said, admiringly, "you have shown yourself
a brave girl."

"I could not be a coward, and be my father's daughter," she replied,
with an odd accent of pride in her choking voice, "but I have been
afraid, and--and I am still."

"Of what? Surely, not that those fellows will ever catch up with us?"

"No, I hardly know what, only there is a dread I cannot seem to shake
off, as if some evil impended, the coming of which I can feel, but not
see. Have you ever experienced any such premonition?"

He laughed, withdrawing his hand.

"I think not. I am far too prosaic a mortal to allow dreams to worry
me. So far I have discovered sufficient trouble in real life to keep my
brain active. Even now I cannot forget how hungry I am."

She did not answer, comprehending how useless it would be to explain,
and a little ashamed of her own ill-defined fears, and thus they rode
on in silence. He did not notice that she glanced aside at him shyly,
marking the outline of his clear-cut features, silhouetted against the
far-off sky. It was a manly face, strong, alive, full of character, the
well-shaped head firmly poised, the broad shoulders squared in spite of
the long night of weary exertion. The depths of her eyes brightened with
appreciation.

"I believe your story, Mr. Keith," she said at last softly.

"My story?" questioningly, and turning instantly toward her.

"Yes; all that you have told me about what happened."

"Oh