haste! I must have the pony because he is all ready.
Hurry! Hurry! I have just thought--uncle Philip will help us. He can do
anything. He will do anything in the world for me if I can only reach
him. He is nearly always coming to Cedar House about this time. I am
going to meet him. Everything will be safe and right if I can find him
and tell him. Help me up to the saddle, quick! quick!"

They were now out of the stable and could see each other dimly. He
exclaimed in affright, grasping her skirt and holding her back when she
attempted to mount.

"It's my saddle, too, you couldn't ride that!" he cried.

"What difference does the saddle make? I have ridden it many a
time--and many a time without any. If you will not--"

She caught the pommel, and he, seeing how utterly useless it was to
contend further, now held out his hand and she set her foot in his palm.
With a leap and a swift, lithe turn of one knee under the other she was
seated in his saddle as easily and firmly as if it had been her own, and
grasped the reins.

"Follow as quickly as you can," she called back over her shoulder. "I am
going to meet uncle Philip in the buffalo path beyond Anvil Rock."

And then the pony sprang away and was running into the falling night.

XIX

UNDER THE HUNTER'S MOON

It was not very dark, and all the cleared country rolling widely away
from Cedar House could be dimly seen. A gusty wind was driving wild
clouds across the stars, and tall cloud mountains rose on the north
covering the great comet; but higher in the dark blue dome of the
firmament the Hunter's Moon swung full and free, casting its wonderful
crystalline light over the darkened earth.

This most marvellous of crystal lamps always appears to be shining by
its own living radiance, and never to be beaming by the merely reflected
glory that gilds the lifeless Harvest Moon. The Hunter's Moon has indeed
no rival among all the lights which heaven lends to the world of night.
It is the whitest, the brightest, the most sparkling that ever falls on
the darkness, and it was in truth the hunter's very own. By its light he
could see how to go on with his hunt hours after the close of the short
November days, and far into the long November nights, and still find his
way home through the deep heart of the mighty wood.

So that even on this dreary November night, when its clearness was
dimmed by the flight of the wind-hunted clouds, it was able to lighten
in a measur