o his horse-mind that his rider did not know what she
wanted, and he did, so there were no two ways about it. He intended to
go back to his old master as straight and as fast as he could get there.
This canyon was the shortest cut and through this canyon he meant to
walk whether she liked it or not.

Further and further into the gloom they penetrated, and the girl,
frenzied with fear, cried out with the wild hope that some one might be
near and come to her rescue. But the gloomy aisle of the canyon caught
up her voice and echoed it far and high, until it came back to her in a
volume of sepulchral sound that filled her with a nameless dread and
made her fear to open her lips again. It was as if she had by her cry
awakened the evil spirit who inhabited the canyon and set it searching
for the intruder. "Help! Help!" How the words rolled and returned upon
her trembling senses until she quaked and quivered with their echoes!

On went the pony into the deepening shadows, and each moment the
darkness shut down more impenetrably, until the girl could only close
her eyes, lower her head as much as possible to escape the branches--and
pray.

Then suddenly, from above where the distant sky gave a line of light and
a single star had appeared to pierce the dusk like a great jewel on a
lady's gown, there arose a sound; blood-curdling and hideous, high,
hollow, far-echoing, chilling her soul with horror and causing her heart
to stand still with fear. She had heard it once before, a night or two
ago, when their train had stopped in a wide desert for water or repairs
or something and the porter of the car had told her it was coyotes. It
had been distant then, and weird and interesting to think of being so
near real live wild animals. She had peered from the safety of her berth
behind the silken curtains and fancied she saw shadowy forms steal over
the plain under the moonlight. But it was a very different thing to hear
the sound now, out alone among their haunts, with no weapon and none to
protect her. The awfulness of her situation almost took away her senses.

Still she held to the saddle, weak and trembling, expecting every minute
to be her last; and the horrid howling of the coyotes continued.

Down below the trail somewhere she could hear the soft trickling of
water with maddening distinctness now and then. Oh, if she could but
quench this terrible thirst! The pony was somewhat refreshed with his
grass and his drink of water, b