'll remember every yard of the trail on which you
were brought in here. You won't realize that till you see."

Joan started and did not look back. Cabin Gulch was like a place in
a dream. It was a relief when she rode out into the broad valley. The
grazing horses lifted their heads to whistle. Joan saw the clumps of
bushes and the flowers, the waving grass, but never as she had seen them
before. How strange that she knew exactly which way to turn, to head, to
cross! She trotted her horse so fast that Jim called to say he could
not drive a pack-animal and keep to her gait. Every rod of the trail
lessened a burden. Behind was something hideous and incomprehensible and
terrible; before beckoned something beginning to seem bright. And it
was not the ruddy, calm sunset, flooding the hills with color. That
something called from beyond the hills.

She led straight to a camp-site she remembered long before she came to
it; and the charred logs of the fire, the rocks, the tree under which
she had lain--all brought back the emotions she had felt there. She grew
afraid of the twilight, and when night settled down there were phantoms
stalking in the shadows. When Cleve, in his hurried camp duties, went
out of her sight, she wanted to cry out to him, but had not the voice;
and when he was close still she trembled and was cold. He wrapped
blankets round her and held her in his arms, yet the numb chill and the
dark clamp of mind remained with her. Long she lay awake. The stars were
pitiless. When she shut her eyes the blackness seemed unendurable. She
slept, to wake out of nightmare, and she dared sleep no more. At last
the day came.

For Joan that faint trail seemed a broad road, blazoned through the wild
canons and up the rocky fastness and through the thick brakes. She led
on and on and up and down, never at fault, with familiar landmarks near
and far. Cleve hung close to her, and now his call to her or to the
pack-horse took on a keener note. Every rough and wild mile behind them
meant so much. They did not halt at the noon hour. They did not halt
at the next camp-site, still more darkly memorable to Joan. And sunset
found them miles farther on, down on the divide, at the head of Lost
Canon.

Here Joan ate and drank, and slept the deep sleep of exhaustion. Sunrise
found them moving, and through the winding, wild canon they made fast
travel. Both time and miles passed swiftly. At noon they reached the
little open cabin, and they