the machine,
had drawn close to the other side of the horse, caught the bridle-rein.

Before the girl, taken so off her guard could cry out, a softly-rolled,
silk handkerchief was thrust between her lips and skillfully tied in
place. She struggled desperately; but, against the powerful arms of her
captor, her splendid, young strength was useless. As he bound her hands,
the man spoke reassuringly; "Don't fight, Miss. I'm not going to hurt you.
I've got to do this; but I'll be as easy as I can. It will do you no good
to wear yourself out."

Frightened as she was, the girl felt that the stranger was as gentle as
the circumstances permitted him to be. He had not, in fact, hurt her at
all; and, in his voice, she caught a tone of genuine regret. He seemed to
be acting wholly against his will; as if driven by some power that
rendered him, in fact, as helpless as his victim.

The other man, still standing by the horse's head, spoke sharply; "All
right there?"

"All right, sir," gruffly answered the man who held Sibyl, and lifting the
helpless girl gently in his arms he seated her carefully in the machine.
An automobile-coat was thrown around her, the high collar turned up to
hide the handkerchief about her lips, and her hat was replaced by an
"auto-cap," pulled low. Then her captor went back to the horse; the other
man took the seat beside her; and the car moved forward.

The girl's fright now gave way to perfect coolness. Realizing the
uselessness of any effort to escape, she wisely saved her strength;
watchful to take quick advantage of any opportunity that might present
itself. Silently, she worked at her bonds, and endeavored to release the
bandage that prevented her from crying out. But the hands that had bound
her had been too skillful. Turning her head, she tried to see her
companion's face. But, in the darkness, with upturned collar and cap
pulled low over "auto-glasses," the identity of the man driving the car
was effectually hidden.

Only when they were passing the Ranger Station and Sibyl saw the lights
through the trees, did she, for a moment, renew her struggle. With all her
strength she strained to release her hands. One cry from her strong, young
voice would bring Brian Oakley so quickly after the automobile that her
safety would be assured. On that mountain road, the chestnut would soon
run them down. She even tried to throw herself from the car; but, bound as
she was, the hand of her companion easily pre