ere was
always that bit of bread in her pocket and that muddy-looking, warm
water for a last resort; but she must save them as long as possible, for
there was no telling how long it would be before she had more.

There was no trail now to follow. She had started from the spot where
she had found the horse, and her inexperienced eyes could not have
searched out a trail if she had tried. She was going toward that distant
castle on the crag as to a goal, but when she reached it, if she ever
did, would she find anything there but crags and lonesomeness and the
eagle?

Drying her tears at last, she started the horse on down the hill, and
perhaps her tears blinded her, or because she was dizzy with hunger and
the long stretch of anxiety and fatigue she was not looking closely.
There was a steep place, a sharp falling away of the ground unexpectedly
as they emerged from a thicket of sage-brush, and the horse plunged
several feet down, striking sharply on some loose rocks, and slipping to
his knees; snorting, scrambling, making brave effort, but slipping, half
rolling, at last he was brought down with his frightened rider, and lay
upon his side with her foot under him and a sensation like a red-hot
knife running through her ankle.

Margaret caught her breath in quick gasps as they fell, lifting a prayer
in her heart for help. Then came the crash and the sharp pain, and with
a quick conviction that all was over she dropped back unconscious on the
sand, a blessed oblivion of darkness rushing over her.

When she came to herself once more the hot sun was pouring down upon her
unprotected face, and she was conscious of intense pain and suffering in
every part of her body. She opened her eyes wildly and looked around.
There was sage-brush up above, waving over the crag down which they had
fallen, its gray-greenness shimmering hotly in the sun; the sky was
mercilessly blue without a cloud. The great beast, heavy and quivering,
lay solidly against her, half pinning her to earth, and the helplessness
of her position was like an awful nightmare from which she felt she
might waken if she could only cry out. But when at last she raised her
voice its empty echo frightened her, and there, above her, with
wide-spread wings, circling for an instant, then poised in motionless
survey of her, with cruel eyes upon her, loomed that eagle--so large, so
fearful, so suggestive in its curious stare, the monarch of the desert
come to see who had inv