mind had drifted into a review of the night's adventures, and a plan for the morrow. We met with no one, heard no noise except the steady pounding of our horses' hoofs. I do not recall that we exchanged a word, except once, when an oddly shaped stump by the roadside caused me to pull up suddenly, believing I saw the crouching figure of a man. A little later the sky to the east began to lighten in the promise of dawn. We climbed a long hill, our horses slowing to the ascent, and by the time we attained the summit the gray light revealed our faces. I looked across at her, and her eyes, uplifted suddenly to mine, smiled.
"You are worn out," I said.
"I—I am tired," she confessed. "I—I have been two days and nights without sleep. If I could only rest for an hour—"
"You shall—all day long. We will find a place in which to hide down there in the valley."
The road led winding down between rocky banks, but it was still too dark below for us to discern the nature of the descent. We had to ride with care, pebbles causing the horses to slip, but, at last, came forth into a narrow valley, hemmed in by great hills, and watered by a small stream. The valley was wooded, but not heavily, and the road cut directly across. As we paused to let the thirsty animals
