all beyond that purpose
was--beyond.

Smythe was not satisfied, but he could say no more; for Marion was
already mounting Tuesday, and he could only follow.

At the edge of the little wood below the ranch house Marion turned in
the saddle, and saw Claire standing in the doorway. She waved her
hand, and Claire waved hers in response; and then the trees came
between them, as they had done a hundred times that summer. But now a
lump rose in Marion's throat. Dear Claire! She had been so good to
her!

They emerged from the woods, and Marion spurred Tuesday to the gallop,
and Smythe came galloping behind. For some distance down the valley
she made a point of keeping well ahead of him, by this means avoiding
conversation, for which she was not prepared. Her eyes continually
sought the dark, gaunt mass of rock that was then, little by little,
breaking through the reek on Thunder Mountain. Philip would be up
there soon. He had--how many hours the start of her? She checked
Tuesday's gait, and let Smythe come up beside her.

"What time was it when he passed the post-office?" she asked.

"About eight o'clock."

And now it was almost noon! She spurred her pony on.

They turned the corner at Thompson's, galloping, and caught a glimpse
of Mrs. Thompson in the doorway, with a look of wonder on her face.
Two miles beyond they swerved without lessening their speed into a
less-traveled road that presently was winding in and out among the
timber, which opened at the end of another mile, and showed them
Norton's ranch in its sheltered valley among the foothills. It was
from Norton's, or near it, that the last word had come of Haig and
Sunnysides; so there was no need to stop for confirmation of their
direction. The valley narrowed to a gulch, and the forest came down on
either side, and the road ahead of them was swallowed up in shade.

Here, as if at the entrance to some unknown (for she had never been
past Norton's, in all her rides about the Park), her purpose required
that Marion should rid herself of Smythe. Moreover, there was Claire
to be thought of; and she did not want Huntington to be riding up the
trail after her that night.

"Now, Mr. Smythe," she said, reining up in the first shadow of the
woods, "I've something for you to do for me."

"What is it?" he asked in surprise.

"I want you to leave me now, and take a message to Mrs. Huntington."

"But I can't--leave you."

"Yes, you must."

"But you're not going on