he anger centered upon herself, and Helen
neither understood nor trusted herself.

The outcome proved an uncontrollable impulse. Helen began to saddle her
horse. She had the task half accomplished when Bo's call made her look
up.

"Listen!"

Helen heard a ringing, wild bay of the hound.

"That's Pedro," she said, with a thrill.

"Sure. He's running. We never heard him bay like that before."

"Where's Dale?"

"He rode out of sight across there," replied Bo, pointing. "And Pedro's
running toward us along that slope. He must be a mile--two miles from
Dale."

"But Dale will follow."

"Sure. But he'd need wings to get near that hound now. Pedro couldn't
have gone across there with him... just listen."

The wild note of the hound manifestly stirred Bo to irrepressible
action. Snatching up Dale's lighter rifle, she shoved it into her
saddle-sheath, and, leaping on the mustang, she ran him over brush and
brook, straight down the park toward the place Pedro was climbing. For
an instant Helen stood amazed beyond speech. When Bo sailed over a big
log, like a steeple-chaser, then Helen answered to further unconsidered
impulse by frantically getting her saddle fastened. Without coat or hat
she mounted. The nervous horse bolted almost before she got into the
saddle. A strange, trenchant trembling coursed through all her veins.
She wanted to scream for Bo to wait. Bo was out of sight, but the deep,
muddy tracks in wet places and the path through the long grass afforded
Helen an easy trail to follow. In fact, her horse needed no guiding. He
ran in and out of the straggling spruces along the edge of the park, and
suddenly wheeled around a corner of trees to come upon the gray mustang
standing still. Bo was looking up and listening.

"There he is!" cried Bo, as the hound bayed ringingly, closer to them
this time, and she spurred away.

Helen's horse followed without urging. He was excited. His ears were up.
Something was in the wind. Helen had never ridden along this broken end
of the park, and Bo was not easy to keep up with. She led across bogs,
brooks, swales, rocky little ridges, through stretches of timber and
groves of aspen so thick Helen could scarcely squeeze through. Then
Bo came out into a large open offshoot of the park, right under the
mountain slope, and here she sat, her horse watching and listening.
Helen rode up to her, imagining once that she had heard the hound.

"Look! Look!" Bo's scream made her must