er shoes. What if he
did discover her a second time barefooted? He had not minded before;
neither had she. And no one else would come that way. He had even lent
her his handkerchief to dry her feet. Perhaps he would again.

Once more a strictly private little smile twitched the corners of her
mouth. She slipped off her stockings and plunged her tired feet into the
cool, running water.

Leaning back against a tree-trunk she closed her eyes. An exquisite
sense of well-being stole over her. He would not be here yet. What did
it matter if she dozed? The bubbling of the water lulled her. She rested
her feet upon a sunny brown stone. She turned her cheek upon her arm.

And in her sleep she heard the thudding of a horse's hoofs, and dreamed
that her knight errant was close at hand.

X

THE TIGER'S PREY

With a start she opened her eyes. Some one was drawing near. It must be
later than she had thought.

Again she heard the tramp of a horse's feet, and hastily peered round
the trunk of her tree. Surely he had not come on horseback! It must be a
stranger. She cast a hasty glance towards her shoes, and gathered her
feet under her.

A few yards away she caught sight of a horse's clean limbs moving in the
checkered sunlight. Its rider--her heart gave a sudden, sickening throb
and stood still. He was riding like a king, with his insolent dark face
turned to the sun. She stared at him for one wild moment, then shrank
against her tree. It was possible, it was possible even then, that he
might pass her by without turning his eyes in her direction.

Nearer he came, and nearer yet. The path wound immediately behind the
beech tree that sheltered her. He was close to her now. He had reached
her. She cowered down in breathless terror in the moss, motionless as a
stone. On went the horse's feet, on without a pause, slow and regular as
the beat of a drum. He went by her at a walking pace. Surely he had not
seen her!

She did not dare to lift her head, but it seemed to her that the sound
of the thudding hoofs died very quickly away. For seconds that seemed
like hours she crouched there in the afternoon stillness. Then at
last--at last--she ventured to raise herself--to turn and look.

And in that moment she knew the agony that pierces every nerve with a
physical anguish in the face of sudden horror. For there, close to her,
was Dinghra, on foot, not six paces away, and drawing softly nearer.
There was a faint smile on his