my horses that morning."

"I feel like it," she said, with a smile. "It is such a comfort to be
able to talk again. Mary and I scarcely dared whisper. You had been gone
about half an hour that morning when all the Indians rode down out of
the woods, and crossed the ford to our side. There were about thirty of
them, I should say. I did just what you told me, that is, went on with
my packing as if they were not there. For a little while they stood
around staring like sulky children. Finally one of them said to me
through Mary with a sort of truculent air, like a child experimenting to
see how far he can go, that they were going to take Imbrie back. I told
Mary to tell him that that was up to him; that he would have to deal
with you later, if they did. Meanwhile I noticed they were edging
between me and Imbrie, and presently Imbrie stood up, unbound. He took
command of the band. It seemed he had known they were coming. I was only
anxious to see them all ride off and leave us.

"Soon I saw there was worse coming. At first I knew only by Mary's
scared face. She argued with them. She would not tell me what it was all
about. Gradually I understood that Imbrie was telling them I was his
wife, and they must take me, too. I almost collapsed. Mary did the best
she could for me. I don't know all that she said. It did no good. The
principal Indian asked me if I was Imbrie's wife, and I could only
answer that I did not know, that I had lost my memory. I suppose this
seemed like a mere evasion to them. When Mary saw that they were
determined, she said they must take her, too. She thought this was what
you would want. They refused, but she threatened to identify every man
of them to the police, so they had to take her.

"One man's horse had been killed, and they sent him and three others off
to the Horse Track village on foot to get horses to ride home on. That
provided horses for Imbrie, Mary, and me. They made them go at top speed
all day. I expect it nearly killed the horses. I was like a dead woman;
I neither felt weariness nor anything else much. If it had not been for
Mary I could not have survived it.

"We arrived at their village near Swan Lake early in the afternoon.
Imbrie stopped there only long enough to collect food. We never had
anything to eat but tough smoked meat of some kind, dry biscuits, and
bitter tea, horrible stuff! It didn't make much difference, though.

"Imbrie told the Indians what to say when the police