bin after
all.

It was a terrible night. Every step of the way some new horror was
presented to her imagination. Once she had to cross a wild little stream,
rocky and uncertain in its bed, with slippery, precipitous banks; and
twice in climbing a steep incline she came sharp upon sheer precipices
down into a rocky gorge, where the moonlight seemed repelled by dark,
bristling evergreen trees growing half-way up the sides. She could hear
the rush and clamor of a tumbling mountain stream in the depths below.
Once she fancied she heard a distant shot, and the horse pricked up his
ears, and went forward excitedly.

But at last the dawn contended with the night, and in the east a faint
pink flush crept up. Down in the valley a mist like a white feather rose
gently into a white cloud, and obscured everything. She wished she might
carry the wall of white with her to shield her. She had longed for the
dawn; and now, as it came with sudden light and clear revealing of the
things about her, it was almost worse than night, so dreadful were the
dangers when clearly seen, so dangerous the chasms, so angry the mountain
torrents.

With the dawn came the new terror of being followed. The man would have no
fear to come to her in the morning, for murdered men were not supposed to
haunt their homes after the sun was up, and murderers were always
courageous in the day. He might the sooner come, and find her gone, and
perhaps follow; for she felt that he was not one easily to give up an
object he coveted, and she had seen in his evil face that which made her
fear unspeakably.

As the day grew clearer, she began to study the surroundings. All seemed
utter desolation. There was no sign that any one had ever passed that way
before; and yet, just as she had thought that, the horse stopped and
snorted, and there in the rocks before them lay a man's hat riddled with
shot. Peering fearfully around, the girl saw a sight which made her turn
icy cold and begin to tremble; for there, below them, as if he had fallen
from his horse and rolled down the incline, lay a man on his face.

For the instant fear held her riveted, with the horse, one figure like a
statue, girl and beast; the next, sudden panic took hold upon her. Whether
the man were dead or not, she must make haste. It might be he would come
to himself and pursue her, though there was that in the rigid attitude of
the figure down below that made her sure he had been dead some time. But
how