prints were these others, small as a woman's, though the
pace from one to another was longer than that which the skirts of
women allow.

Did not White Fell tread so?

A dreadful guess appalled him, so dreadful that he recoiled from
belief. Yet his face grew ashy white, and he gasped to fetch back
motion to his checked heart. Unbelievable? Closer attention showed
how the smaller footfall had altered for greater speed, striking
into the snow with a deeper onset and a lighter pressure on the
heels. Unbelievable? Could any woman but White Fell run so? Could
any man but Christian run so? The guess became a certainty. He was
following where alone in the dark night White Fell had fled from
Christian pursuing.

Such villainy set heart and brain on fire with rage and
indignation: such villainy in his own brother, till lately
love-worthy, praiseworthy, though a fool for meekness. He would
kill Christian; had he lives many as the footprints he had trodden,
vengeance should demand them all. In a tempest of murderous hate
he followed on in haste, for the track was plain enough, starting
with such a burst of speed as could not be maintained, but brought
him back soon to a plod for the spent, sobbing breath to be
regulated. He cursed Christian aloud and called White Fell's name
on high in a frenzied expense of passion. His grief itself was a
rage, being such an intolerable anguish of pity and shame at the
thought of his love, White Fell, who had parted from his kiss free
and radiant, to be hounded straightway by his brother mad with
jealousy, fleeing for more than life while her lover was housed at
his ease. If he had but known, he raved, in impotent rebellion at
the cruelty of events, if he had but known that his strength and
love might have availed in her defence; now the only service to
her that he could render was to kill Christian.

As a woman he knew she was matchless in speed, matchless in
strength; but Christian was matchless in speed among men, nor
easily to be matched in strength. Brave and swift and strong
though she were, what chance had she against a man of his strength
and inches, frantic, too, and intent on horrid revenge against his
brother, his successful rival?

Mile after mile he followed with a bursting heart; more piteous,
more tragic, seemed the case at this evidence of White Fell's
splendid supremacy, holding her own so long against Christian's
famous speed. So long, so long that his love and admiration