At last! They were at the top! Ten feet more and they would be on a level,
where they might disappear from view. She turned to look across the
valley, and the man was directly opposite. He must have ridden hard to get
there so soon. Oh, horror! He was waving his hands and calling. She could
distinctly hear a cry! It chilled her senses, and brought a frantic,
unreasoning fear. Somehow she felt he was connected with the one from whom
she fled. Some emissary of his sent out to foil her in her attempt for
safety, perhaps.

She clutched the bridle wildly, and urged the horse up with one last
effort; and just as they reached high ground she heard the wild cry ring
clear and distinct, "Hello! Hello!" and then something else. It sounded
like "Help!" but she could not tell. Was he trying to deceive her?
Pretending he would help her?

She flung herself into the saddle, giving the horse the signal to run;
and, as the animal obeyed and broke into his prairie run, she cast one
fearful glance behind her. The man was pursuing her at a gallop! He was
crossing the valley. There was a stream to cross, but he would cross it.
He had determination in every line of his flying figure. His voice was
pursuing her, too. It seemed as if the sound reached out and clutched her
heart, and tried to draw her back as she fled. And now her pursuers were
three: her enemy, the dead man upon the mountain, and the voice.

CHAPTER III

THE PURSUIT

Straight across the prairie she galloped, not daring to stop for an
instant, with the voice pursuing her. For hours it seemed to ring in her
ears, and even after she was far beyond any possibility of hearing it she
could not be sure but there was now and then a faint echo of it ringing
yet, "Hello!"--ringing like some strange bird amid the silence of the
world.

There were cattle and sheep grazing on the bench, and the horse would fain
have stopped to dine with them; but the girl urged him on, seeming to make
him understand the danger that might be pursuing them.

It was hours before she dared stop for the much-needed rest. Her brain had
grown confused with the fright and weariness. She felt that she could not
much longer stay in the saddle. She might fall asleep. The afternoon sun
would soon be slipping down behind the mountains. When and where dared she
rest? Not in the night, for that would be almost certain death, with wild
beasts about.

A little group of greasewood offered a scanty shelter.