e that she had hitherto led. She tried
to puzzle it out and remember which way they had turned from the
railroad but grew more bewildered, and the brilliant display in the west
flamed alarmingly as she realized that night was coming on and she was
lost on a great desert with only a wild tired little pony for company,
hungry and thirsty and weary beyond anything she had ever dreamed
before.

They had been going down into a broad valley for some little time, which
made the night seem even nearer. Hazel would have turned her horse back
and tried to retrace her steps, but that he would not, for try as she
might, and turn him as she would he circled about and soon was in the
same course again, so that now the tired hands could only hold the reins
stiffly and submit to be carried where the pony willed. It was quite
evident he had a destination in view, and knew the way thereto. Hazel
had read of the instinct of animals. She began to hope that he would
presently bring her to a human habitation where she would find help to
get to her father once more.

But suddenly even the glory of the dying sun was lost as the horse
entered the dimness of the canyon opening, whose high walls of red
stone, rising solemnly on either hand, were serrated here and there with
long transverse lines of grasses and tree-ferns growing in the crevices,
and higher up appeared the black openings of caves mysterious and
fearsome in the twilight gloom. The way ahead loomed darkly. Somewhere
from out the memories of her childhood came a phrase from the
church-service to which she had never given conscious attention, but
which flashed vividly to mind now: "Though I walk through the valley of
the shadow--the Valley of the Shadow!" Surely this must be it. She
wished she could remember the rest of it. What could it have meant? She
shivered visibly, and looked about her with wild eyes.

The cottonwoods and oaks grew thickly at the base of the cliffs, almost
concealing them sometimes, and above the walls rose dark and towering.
The way was rough and slippery, filled with great boulders and rocks,
around which the pony picked his way without regard to the branches of
trees that swept her face and caught in her long hair as they went by.

Vainly she strove to guide him back, but he turned only to whirl again,
determinedly. Somewhere in the deep gloom ahead he had a destination
and no mere girl was to deter him from reaching it as soon as possible.
It was plain t