And not for worlds would Rose's rival have had it otherwise. She could not have loved him as she did had he not been so immovably true. As it was, since she could not hope her love might ever be returned, she was content to love and to promise herself that, if opportunity offered, she would not prove unready to sacrifice herself to her love. At times she caught herself praying that such opportunity would soon be accorded her, and that the sacrifice it should demand would be complete. …
Now prayers are sometimes answered when the craved boon is good for the soul. …
Slowly and painfully these four toiled along an obscure trail. Above them, on the road they had abandoned, the crimson racer doubled back to the point where it had passed Judith and Barcus; its occupants descended, explored, and came presently upon the trail of the fugitives.
Bloodhounds could not have settled down upon a scent with more good-will and eagerness than Mr. Marrophat and his faithful aide. The sun was high above the cañon when the pursuit came within rifle-shot of the chase.
The spiteful crack roused the quartet from a pause of dismay due to tardy appreciation of the fact that they had penetrated almost to the end of a blind alley. According to Mr. Barcus's definition, in short, this was indeed a mighty poor sort of a cañon, since
