<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II" />CHAPTER II</h2>
<h3>THE FLIGHT</h3>
<p>A great fear settled down upon the girl as she realized that she was alone
and, for a few hours at least, free. It was a marvellous escape. Even now
she could hear the echo of the man's last words, and see his hateful smile
as he waved his good-by and promised to come back for her to-morrow.</p>
<p>She felt sure he would not wait until the night. It might be he would
return even yet. She cast another reassuring look down the darkening road,
and strained her ear; but she could no longer hear hoof-beats.
Nevertheless, it behooved her to hasten. He had blanched at her suggestion
of walking spirits; but, after all, his courage might arise. She shuddered
to think of his returning later, in the night. She must fly somewhere at
once.</p>
<p>Instantly her dormant senses seemed to be on the alert. Fully fledged
plans flashed through her brain. She went into the cabin, and barred the
door. She made every movement swiftly, as if she had not an instant to
spare. Who could tell? He might return even before dark. He had been hard
to baffle, and she did not feel at all secure. It was her one chance of
safety to get away speedily, whither it mattered little, only so she was
away and hidden.</p>
<p>Her first act inside the cottage was to get the belt from the cupboard and
buckle it around her waist. She examined and loaded the pistols. Her
throat seemed seized with sudden constriction when she discovered that
the barrels had been empty and the weapons would have done her no good
even if she could have reached them.</p>
<p>She put into her belt the sharp little knife her brother used to carry,
and then began to gather together everything eatable that she could carry
with her. There was not much that could be easily carried—some dried
beef, a piece of cheese, some corn-meal, a piece of pork, a handful of
cheap coffee-berries, and some pieces of hard corn bread. She hesitated
over a pan half full of baked beans, and finally added them to the store.
They were bulky, but she ought to take them if she could. There was
nothing else in the house that seemed advisable to take in the way of
eatables. Their stores had been running low, and the trouble of the last
day or two had put housekeeping entirely out of her mind. She had not
cared to eat, and now it occurred to her that food had not passed her lips
that day. With strong self-control she forced herself to eat a few of the
dry pieces of corn bread, and to drink some cold coffee that stood in the
little coffee-pot. This she did while she worked, wasting not one minute.</p>
<p>There were some old flour-sacks in the house. She put the eatables into
two of them, with the pan of beans on the top, adding a tin cup, and tied
them securely together. Then she went into her little shed room, and put
on the few extra garments in her wardrobe. They were not many, and that
was the easiest way to carry them. Her mother's wedding-ring, sacredly
kept in a box since the mother's death, she slipped upon her finger. It
seemed the closing act of her life in the cabin, and she paused and bent
her head as if to ask the mother's permission that she might wear the
ring. It seemed a kind of protection to her in her lonely situation.</p>
<p>There were a few papers and an old letter or two yellow with years, which
the mother had always guarded sacredly. One was the certificate of her
mother's marriage. The girl did not know what the others were. She had
never looked into them closely, but she knew that her mother had counted
them precious. These she pinned into the bosom of her calico gown. Then
she was ready.</p>
<p>She gave one swift glance of farewell about the cabin where she had spent
nearly all of her life that she could remember, gathered up the two
flour-sacks and an old coat of her father's that hung on the wall,
remembering at the last minute to put into its pocket the few matches and
the single candle left in the house, and went out from the cabin, closing
the door behind her.</p>
<p>She paused, looking down the road, and listened again; but no sound came
to her save a distant howl of a wolf. The moon rode high and clear by this
time; and it seemed not so lonely here, with everything bathed in soft
silver, as it had in the darkening cabin with its flickering candle.</p>
<p>The girl stole out from the cabin and stealthily across the patch of
moonlight into the shadow of the shackly barn where stamped the poor,
ill-fed, faithful horse that her brother had ridden to his death upon. All
her movements were stealthy as a cat's.</p>
<p>She laid the old coat over the horse's back, swung her brother's saddle
into place,—she had none of her own, and could ride his, or without any;
it made no difference, for she was perfectly at home on horseback,—and
strapped the girths with trembling fingers that were icy cold with
excitement. Across the saddle-bows she hung the two flour-sacks containing
her provisions. Then with added caution she tied some old burlap about
each of the horse's feet. She must make no sound and leave no track as
she stole forth into the great world.</p>
<p>The horse looked curiously down and whinnied at her, as she tied his feet
up clumsily. He did not seem to like his new habiliments, but he suffered
anything at her hand.</p>
<p>"Hush!" she murmured softly, laying her cold hands across his nostrils;
and he put his muzzle into her palm, and seemed to understand.</p>
<p>She led him out into the clear moonlight then, and paused a second,
looking once more down the road that led away in front of the cabin; but
no one was coming yet, though her heart beat high as she listened,
fancying every falling bough or rolling stone was a horse's hoof-beat.</p>
<p>There were three trails leading away from the cabin, for they could hardly
be dignified by the name of road. One led down the mountain toward the
west, and was the way they took to the nearest clearing five or six miles
beyond and to the supply store some three miles further. One led off to
the east, and was less travelled, being the way to the great world; and
the third led down behind the cabin, and was desolate and barren under the
moon. It led down, back, and away to desolation, where five graves lay
stark and ugly at the end. It was the way they had taken that afternoon.</p>
<p>She paused just an instant as if hesitating which way to take. Not the way
to the west—ah, any but that! To the east? Yes, surely, that must be the
trail she would eventually strike; but she had a duty yet to perform. That
prayer was as yet unsaid, and before she was free to seek safety—if
safety there were for her in the wide world—she must take her way down
the lonely path. She walked, leading the horse, which followed her with
muffled tread and arched neck as if he felt he were doing homage to the
dead. Slowly, silently, she moved along into the river of moonlight and
dreariness; for the moonlight here seemed cold, like the graves it shone
upon, and the girl, as she walked with bowed head, almost fancied she saw
strange misty forms flit past her in the night.</p>
<p>As they came in sight of the graves, something dark and wild with plumy
tail slunk away into the shadows, and seemed a part of the place. The girl
stopped a moment to gain courage in full sight of the graves, and the
horse snorted, and stopped too, with his ears a-quiver, and a half-fright
in his eyes.</p>
<p>She patted his neck and soothed him incoherently, as she buried her face
in his mane for a moment, and let the first tears that had dimmed her eyes
since the blow had fallen come smarting their way out. Then, leaving the
horse to stand curiously watching her, she went down and stood at the head
of the new-heaped mound. She tried to kneel, but a shudder passed through
her. It was as if she were descending into the place of the dead herself;
so she stood up and raised her eyes to the wide white night and the moon
riding so high and far away.</p>
<p>"Our Father," she said in a voice that sounded miles away to herself. Was
there any Father, and could He hear her? And did He care? "Which art in
heaven—" but heaven was so far away and looked so cruelly serene to her
in her desolateness and danger! "hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come—"
whatever that might mean. "Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven."
It was a long prayer to pray, alone with the pale moon-rain and the
graves, and a distant wolf, but it was her mother's wish. Her will being
done here over the dead—was that anything like the will of the Father
being done in heaven? Her untrained thoughts hovered on the verge of
great questions, and then slipped back into her pathetic self and its
fear, while her tongue hurried on through the words of the prayer.</p>
<p>Once the horse stirred and breathed a soft protest. He could not
understand why they were stopping so long in this desolate place, for
nothing apparently. He had looked and looked at the shapeless mound before
which the girl was standing; but he saw no sign of his lost master, and
his instincts warned him that there were wild animals about. Anyhow, this
was no place for a horse and a maid to stop in the night.</p>
<p>A few loose stones rattled from the horse's motion. The girl started, and
looked hastily about, listening for a possible pursuer; but everywhere in
the white sea of moonlight there was empty, desolate space. On to the
"Amen" she finished then, and with one last look at the lonely graves she
turned to the horse. Now they might go, for the duty was done, and there
was no time to be lost.</p>
<p>Somewhere over toward the east across that untravelled wilderness of white
light was the trail that started to the great world from the little cabin
she had left. She dared not go back to the cabin to take it, lest she find
herself already followed. She did not know the way across this lonely
plain, and neither did the horse. In fact, there was no way, for it was
all one arid plain so situated that human traveller seldom came near it,
so large and so barren that one might wander for hours and gain no goal,
so dry that nothing would grow.</p>
<p>With another glance back on the way she had come, the girl mounted the
horse and urged him down into the valley. He stepped cautiously into the
sandy plain, as if he were going into a river and must try its depth. He
did not like the going here, but he plodded on with his burdens. The girl
was light; he did not mind her weight; but he felt this place uncanny, and
now and then would start on a little spurt of haste, to get into a better
way. He liked the high mountain trails, where he could step firmly and
hear the twigs crackle under his feet, not this muffled, velvet way where
one made so little progress and had to work so hard.</p>
<p>The girl's heart sank as they went on, for the sand seemed deep and
drifted in places. She felt she was losing time. The way ahead looked
endless, as if they were but treading sand behind them which only returned
in front to be trodden over again. It was to her like the valley of the
dead, and she longed to get out of it. A great fear lest the moon should
go down and leave her in this low valley alone in the dark took hold upon
her. She felt she must get away, up higher. She turned the horse a little
more to the right, and he paused, and seemed to survey the new direction
and to like it. He stepped up more briskly, with a courage that could come
only from an intelligent hope for better things. And at last they were
rewarded by finding the sand shallower, and now and then a bit of rock
cropping out for a firmer footing.</p>
<p>The young rider dismounted, and untied the burlap from the horse's feet.
He seemed to understand, and to thank her as he nosed about her neck. He
thought, perhaps, that their mission was over and they were going to
strike out for home now.</p>
<p>The ground rose steadily before them now, and at times grew quite steep;
but the horse was fresh as yet, and clambered upward with good heart; and
the rider was used to rough places, and felt no discomfort from her
position. The fear of being followed had succeeded to the fear of being
lost, for the time being; and instead of straining her ears on the track
behind she was straining her eyes to the wilderness before. The growth of
sage-brush was dense now, and trees were ahead.</p>
<p>After that the way seemed steep, and the rider's heart stood still with
fear lest she could never get up and over to the trail which she knew must
be somewhere in that direction, though she had never been far out on its
course herself. That it led straight east into all the great cities she
never doubted, and she must find it before she was pursued. That man would
be angry, <i>angry</i> if he came and found her gone! He was not beyond
shooting her for giving him the slip in this way.</p>
<p>The more she thought over it, the more frightened she became, till every
bit of rough way, and every barrier that kept her from going forward
quickly, seemed terrible to her. A bob-cat shot across the way just ahead,
and the green gleam of its eyes as it turned one swift glance at this
strange intruder in its chosen haunts made her catch her breath and put
her hand on the pistols.</p>
<p>They were climbing a long time—it seemed hours to the girl—when at last
they came to a space where a better view of the land was possible. It was
high, and sloped away on three sides. To her looking now in the clear
night the outline of a mountain ahead of her became distinct, and the lay
of the land was not what she had supposed. It brought her a furious sense
of being lost. Over there ought to be the familiar way where the cabin
stood, but there was no sign of anything she had ever seen before, though
she searched eagerly for landmarks. The course she had chosen, and which
had seemed the only one, would take her straight up, up over the
mountain, a way well-nigh impossible, and terrible even if it were
possible.</p>
<p>It was plain she must change her course, but which way should she go? She
was completely turned around. After all, what mattered it? One way might
be as good as another, so it led not home to the cabin which could never
be home again. Why not give the horse his head, and let him pick out a
safe path? Was there danger that he might carry her back to the cabin
again, after all? Horses did that sometimes. But at least he could guide
through this maze of perplexity till some surer place was reached. She
gave him a sign, and he moved on, nimbly picking a way for his feet.</p>
<p>They entered a forest growth where weird branches let the pale moon
through in splashes and patches, and grim moving figures seemed to chase
them from every shadowy tree-trunk. It was a terrible experience to the
girl. Sometimes she shut her eyes and held to the saddle, that she might
not see and be filled with this frenzy of things, living or dead,
following her. Sometimes a real black shadow crept across the path, and
slipped into the engulfing darkness of the undergrowth to gleam with
yellow-lighted eyes upon the intruders.</p>
<p>But the forest did not last forever, and the moon was not yet gone when
they emerged presently upon the rough mountain-side. The girl studied the
moon then, and saw by the way it was setting that after all they were
going in the right general direction. That gave a little comfort until she
made herself believe that in some way she might have made a mistake and
gone the wrong way from the graves, and so be coming up to the cabin after
all.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 had he died? Scarcely by his own hand. Who had killed him? Were there
fiends lurking in the fastnesses of the mountain growth above her?</p>
<p>With guarded motion she urged her horse forward, and for miles beyond the
horse scrambled breathlessly, the girl holding on with shut eyes, not
daring to look ahead for fear of seeing more terrible sights, not daring
to look behind for fear of—what she did not know.</p>
<p>At last the way sloped downward, and they reached more level ground, with
wide stretches of open plain, dotted here and there with sage-brush and
greasewood.</p>
<p>She had been hungry back there before she came upon the dead man; but now
the hunger had gone from her, and in its place was only faintness. Still,
she dared not stop long to eat. She must make as much time as possible
here in this open space, and now she was where she could be seen more
easily if any one were in pursuit.</p>
<p>But the horse had decided that it was time for breakfast. He had had one
or two drinks of water on the mountain, but there had been no time for him
to eat. He was decidedly hungry, and the plain offered nothing in the
shape of breakfast. He halted, lingered, and came to a neighing stop,
looking around at his mistress. She roused from her lethargy of trouble,
and realized that his wants—if not her own—must be attended to.</p>
<p>She must sacrifice some of her own store of eatables, for by and by they
would come to a good grazing-place perhaps, but now there was nothing.</p>
<p>The corn-meal seemed the best for the horse. She had more of it than of
anything else. She poured a scanty portion out on a paper, and the beast
smacked his lips appreciatively over it, carefully licking every grain
from the paper, as the girl guarded it lest his breath should blow any
away. He snuffed hungrily at the empty paper, and she gave him a little
more meal, while she ate some of the cold beans, and scanned the horizon
anxiously. There was nothing but sage-brush in sight ahead of her, and
more hills farther on where dim outlines of trees could be seen. If she
could but get up higher where she could see farther, and perhaps reach a
bench where there would be grass and some shelter.</p>
<p>It was only a brief rest she allowed; and then, hastily packing up her
stores, and retaining some dry corn bread and a few beans in her pocket,
she mounted and rode on.</p>
<p>The morning grew hot, and the way was long. As the ground rose again, it
was stony and overgrown with cactus. A great desolation took possession of
the girl. She felt as if she were in an endless flight from an unseen
pursuer, who would never give up until he had her.</p>
<p>It was high noon by the glaring sun when she suddenly saw another human
being. At first she was not quite sure whether he were human. It was only
a distant view of a moving speck; but it was coming toward her, though
separated by a wide valley that had stretched already for miles. He was
moving along against the sky-line on a high bench on one side of the
valley, and she mounting as fast as her weary beast would go to the top of
another, hoping to find a grassy stretch and a chance to rest.</p>
<p>But the sight of the moving speck startled her. She watched it
breathlessly as they neared each other. Could it be a wild beast? No, it
must be a horse and rider. A moment later there came a puff of smoke as
from a rifle discharged, followed by the distant echo of the discharge. It
was a man, and he was yet a great way off. Should she turn and flee before
she was discovered? But where? Should she go back? No, a thousand times,
no! Her enemy was there. This could not be the one from whom she fled. He
was coming from the opposite direction, but he might be just as bad. Her
experience taught her that men were to be shunned. Even fathers and
brothers were terribly uncertain, sorrow-bringing creatures.</p>
<p>She could not go back to the place where the dead man lay. She must not go
back. And forward she was taking the only course that seemed at all
possible through the natural obstructions of the region. She shrank to her
saddle, and urged the patient horse on. Perhaps she could reach the bench
and get away out of sight before the newcomer saw her.</p>
<p>But the way was longer to the top, and steeper than it had seemed at
first, and the horse was tired. Sometimes he stopped of his own accord,
and snorted appealingly to her with his head turned inquiringly as if to
know how long and how far this strange ride was to continue. Then the man
in the distance seemed to ride faster. The valley between them was not so
wide here. He was quite distinctly a man now, and his horse was going
rapidly. Once it seemed as if he waved his arms; but she turned her head,
and urged her horse with sudden fright. They were almost to the top now.
She dismounted and clambered alongside of the animal up the steep incline,
her breath coming in quick gasps, with the horse's breath hot upon her
cheek as they climbed together.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
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