d
at a ranch, and turned down into the valley. He thought it might be wiser
to keep to the south of the line he would be expected to take, though
this would entail the crossing of rougher country. Reaching the edge of a
stream, he stopped and regarded it with some concern. It ran fast between
great boulders and looked deep, but as there was no sign of a better
crossing he warned the girl to hold on, and led the horse in.

After a few paces he sank above his knees, and found it hard to keep his
footing and the horse's head upstream. The roan was slipping badly among
the stones and the hem of his companion's skirt was getting wet. He was
pleased to notice that she did not look unduly alarmed.

"We'll be across in another minute or two," he said as cheerfully as he
could.

She smiled at him rather dubiously and at the next step he sank deeper
and dragged the horse round as he clung to the bridle. The roan plunged
savagely and the water rippled about Kermode's waist as he struggled for
a foothold on the slippery stones. With a desperate effort he managed to
find firmer bottom and soon came out on a strip of shingle. Stopping
there for a few moments, he gathered breath while the girl looked about.
They were in the bottom of a deep gorge filled with the sound of running
water and sweet resinous scents. Here the torrent flashed in bright
sunshine; there it flowed, streaked with foam, through dim shadow, while
somber pines towered above it. There was no sound or sign of human life;
they had entered the gates of the wilderness.

"Where do we go next?" the girl asked.

"Up this slope," said Kermode. "Then among the pines, across the hills,
and high plains, into a lonely land. I don't suppose we'll see a house
until we get to Drummond."

"Do you know the way?"

"I don't," Kermode said cheerfully. "I've never been here before, but I'm
accustomed to traveling about the prairie, where trails are scarce. You
don't look daunted."

There was a hint of pleasurable excitement in his companion's laugh.

"Oh," she replied, "adventures appeal to me, and I've never met with any.
For three years since my brother left, I've led a life of drudgery; and
before that, half the pleasures I might have had were denied me by an
accident."

Recognizing a kindred nature, Kermode looked sympathetic. She was
evidently alluding to her lameness, which must prove a heavy handicap to
a girl of the active, sanguine temperament he thought she possess