ard some timber a few hundred yards beyond them.

With a laugh that was almost derisive, Ruth whipped her pony and sent it
flying over the plateau at an angle that took her almost directly away
from the running men. She had been riding only a minute or two, however,
when she heard a shout, and saw that the men had stopped and were facing
in her direction, waving their hands at her. They looked grotesque--like
jumping jacks--in the sudden twilight that had fallen, and she could not
withhold a smile of triumph. It did not last long, for she saw the men
begin to run again, this time toward the cut, and she urged her pony to
additional effort, fearful that the men might gain their ponies and
overtake her.

And now that the men were behind her, she squared her pony toward the
trail over which she had ridden to come here, determined to follow it,
for she felt that she knew it better than any other.

The pony ran well, covering the ground with long, agile jumps. For about
two miles she held it to its rapid pace, and then, looking backward for
the first time she saw the plateau, vast, dark and vacant, behind her,
and she drew the pony down, for she had come to the stretch of broken
country and realized that she must be careful.

She shuddered as she looked at the darkening world in front of her. Never
had it seemed so dismal, so empty, and at the same time so full of
lurking danger. The time which precedes the onrush of darkness is always
a solemn one; it was doubly solemn to Ruth, alone, miles from home, with
a known danger behind her and unknown dangers awaiting her.

Fifteen miles! She drew a long breath as the pony scampered along;
anxiously she scanned the plains to the south and in front of her for
signs of Flying W cattle or men. The cattle and horseman that she had
previously seen, far over on the slope, had vanished, and it looked so
dismal and empty over there that she turned her head and shivered.

There seemed to be nothing in front of her but space and darkness. She
wondered, gulping, whether Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha were worried
about her. They would be, of course, for she had never stayed like this
before. But, she thought, with a pulse of joy, they would be lighting the
lamps presently, and when she got to the big level beyond the ford, she
would be able to see the lights, and the sight of them would make her
feel better. She had never realized before how companionable a horse
felt, and as her pony ran