make it--by
sunset."

Beth flushed. He evidently entertained a very poor notion of her
horsemanship. Her pride was aroused. She would show him something--at
least that no horse could make this journey without her!

"Thank you," she said, and advancing to the roan she addressed herself
to Dave. "Will you please help me up. Mr. Van may assist my maid."

Dave grinned and performed his offices as best he could, which was
strongly, if not with grace. Van shook a threatening fist, behind his
captive's back. He had meant to take this honor to himself.

Fairly tossing the greatly delighted little Elsa to the seat on the
bay, he mounted his own sturdy animal and immediately started for the
canyon below, leaving Beth and her maid to trail behind.

The girl's heart all but failed her. Whither were they going?--and
towards what Fate? What could be the outcome of a journey like this,
undertaken so blindly, with no chance for resistance? The horseman had
stubbornly refused a reply to her question; he was calmly riding off
before them now with the utmost indifference to her comfort. There was
nothing to do but to follow, and resign herself to--the Lord alone knew
what. The little roan mare, indeed, required no urging; she was
tugging at the bit to be off. With one last look of helplessness at
the station and Dave--who someway bore the hint of a fatherly air upon
him--she charged her nerves with all possible resolution and rode on
after her leader.

Elsa permitted her broncho to trudge at the tail of the column. She
dared to cast one shy, disconcerting little glance at Dave--and he
suddenly felt he would burst into flame and consume himself utterly to
ashes.

The great canyon yawned prodigiously where its rock gates stood open to
grant the party admission to the sanctum of the hills. Sheer granite
walls, austere and frowning, rose in sculptured immensity on either
side, but the trail under foot was scored between some scattered
wild-peach shrubs, interspersed with occasional bright-green clumps of
manzanita. The air was redolent of warmth and fragrance that might
with fitness have advertised the presence in the hills of some
glorified goddess of love--some lofty, invisible goddess, guarded by
her mountain snows, yet still too languorous and voluptuous to pass
without at least trailing on the summery air the breath that exhaled
from her being. It was all a delight, despite vague alarms, and the
promise ahead wa