or twenty
feet in the two or three plunges it had made. She found herself wondering
how it could have succeeded in coming that distance. Behind her the water
had become perfectly clear, and the impressions left by the pony's hoofs
had filled up and the river bottom looked as smooth and inviting as it had
seemed when she had urged the pony into it.

In front of her was a stretch of water of nearly the same width as that
which lay behind her. To the right and left the grayish-black sand spread
far, but only a short distance beyond where she could discern the sand
there were rocks that stuck above the water with little ripples around
them.

The rocks were too far away to be of any assistance to her, however, and
her heart sank when she realized that her only hope of escape lay directly
ahead.

She leaned over and laid her head against the pony's neck, smoothing and
patting its shoulders. The animal whinnied appealingly and she stifled a
sob of remorse over her action in forcing it into the treacherous sand,
for it had sensed the danger while obeying her blindly.

How long she lay with her head against the pony's neck she did not know,
but when she finally sat erect again she found that the water was touching
the hem of her riding skirt and that her feet, dangling at each side of
the pony, were deep in the sand of the river bottom. With a cry of fright
she drew them out and crossed them before her on the pommel of the saddle.
With the movement the pony sank several inches, it seemed to her; she saw
the water suddenly flow over its back; heard it neigh loudly, appealingly,
with a note of anguish and terror which seemed almost human, and feeling a
sudden, responsive emotion of horror and despair, Sheila bowed her head
against the pony's mane and sobbed softly.

They would both die, she knew--horribly. They would presently sink beneath
the surface of the sand, the water would flow over them and obliterate all
traces of their graves, and no one would ever know what had become of
them.

Some time later--it might have been five minutes or an hour--Sheila could
not have told--she heard the pony neigh again, and this time it seemed
there was a new note in the sound--a note of hope! She raised her head and
looked up. And there on the bank before her, uncoiling his rope from the
saddle horn and looking very white and grim, was Dakota!

Sheila sat motionless, not knowing whether to cry or laugh, finally
compromising with the a