he should have
spared him, urging him on when they struck the level again. There was no
thought in him of Whetstone now--only of Grace.

He must overtake her in the quickest possible time, and convince her of
his friendly sympathy; he must console and comfort her in this hour of
her need. Brave little thing, to draw him off that way, to keep on
running into the very edge of night, that wild country ahead of her,
for fear he would come close enough to recognize her and turn back to
help the sheriff on the true trail. That's what was in her mind; she
thought he hadn't recognized her, and was still fleeing to draw him as
far away as possible by dark. When he could come within shouting
distance of her, he could make his intention plain. To that end he
pushed on. Her horse had shown a fresh impulse of speed, carrying her a
little farther ahead. They were drawing close to the hills now, with a
growth of harsh and thorny brushwood in the low places along the runlets
of dry streams.

Poor little bird, fleeing from him, luring him on like a trembling quail
that flutters before one's feet in the wheat to draw him away from her
nest. She didn't know the compassion of his heart, the tenderness in
which it strained to her over the intervening space. He forgot all, he
forgave all, in the soft pleading of romance which came back to him like
a well-loved melody.

He fretted that dusk was falling so fast. In the little strips of
valley, growing narrower as he proceeded between the abrupt hills, it
was so nearly dark already that she appeared only dimly ahead of him,
urging her horse on with unsparing hand. It seemed that she must have
some objective ahead of her, some refuge which she strained to make,
some help that she hoped to summon.

He wondered if it might be the cow-camp, and felt a cold indraft on the
hot tenderness of his heart for a moment. But, no; it could not be the
cow-camp. There was no sign that grazing herds had been there lately.
She was running because she was afraid to have him overtake her in the
dusk, running to prolong the race until she could elude him in the dark,
afraid of him, who loved her so!

They were entering the desolation of the hills. On the sides of the thin
strip of valley, down which he pursued her, there were great, dark
rocks, as big as cottages along a village street. He shouted, calling
her name, fearful that he should lose her in this broken country in the
fast-deepening night. Although s