earth, side by side like the barrels of a gun. But this whim was finally
forsaken; the long rope and the elaborate buckets had been removed and
stored; and the slabbed shafts ended in tiny glimmering squares without
break or foot-hole from brink to base.

Moya stood still to think; and very soon the thought of the black
tracker put all others out of court. It came with a sigh: if only she
had him there! He would think nothing of tracking the fugitive from the
hut whithersoever his feet had carried him; was it only the blacks who
could do such things?

How would he begin? Moya recalled her brother's description, and thought
she knew. He would begin by riding down the fence, and seeing if anybody
had crossed it.

She was doing this herself next minute. And the thought that had come
with a sigh had already made her heart beat madly, and the breath come
quicker and quicker through her parted lips; but not with fear; she was
much too excited to feel a conscious qualm. Besides, she had somehow no
fear of the unhappy man, _his_ father.

Excitement flew to frenzy when she actually found the place. She knew it
on the instant, and was never in doubt. There were several footmarks on
either side of the fence; on the far side a vertebrate line of them,
pointing plainly to the scrub; even her unskilled eye could follow it
half the way.

The next thing was to strap down the wires, but Moya could not wait for
that. She galloped to a gate that she had seen in the corner near the
whim, and came up the other side of the fence also at a gallop.

The trail was easily followed to the scrub: among the trees the ground
was harder and footprints proportionately faint. By dismounting,
however, and dropping her handkerchief at each apparent break of the
chain, Moya always succeeded in picking up the links eventually. Now
they gave her no trouble for half-an-hour; now a check would last as
long again; but each half-hour seemed like five minutes in her
excitement. The trees grew thicker and thicker, but never any higher.
Their branches swept the ground and interlaced; and many were the
windings of the faint footmarks tenaciously followed by Moya and the
dapple-grey. They were as divers wandering on the bed of a shallow sea;
for all its shallowness, the patches of sunlight were fewer and fewer,
and farther between; if they were also hotter, Moya did not notice the
difference. She did not realize into what a labyrinth she was
penetrating. Her