her with unseen fingers,
or swept rudely across her face and hair.

The night seemed endless as the wilderness itself. Unused to riding,
she became sore, and then the sore muscles stiffened. The chill of the
night air intensified. She grew cold, her fingers numb. She did not
know where she was going, and she was assailed with doubts of Roaring
Bill's ability to find Cariboo Meadows.

For what seemed to her an interminable length of time they bore slowly
on through timber, crossed openings where the murk of the night thinned
a little, enabling her to see the dim form of Wagstaff plodding in the
lead. Again they dipped down steep slopes and ascended others as
steep, where Silk was forced to scramble, and Hazel kept a precarious
seat. She began to feel, with an odd heart sinking, that sufficient
time had elapsed for them to reach the Meadows, even by a roundabout
way. Then, as they crossed a tiny, gurgling stream, and came upon a
level place beyond, Silk bumped into the other horses and stopped.
Hazel hesitated a second. There was no sound of movement.

"Mr. Wagstaff!" she called.

"Yours truly," his voice hailed back, away to one side. "I'll be there
in a minute."

In less time he appeared beside her.

"Will you fall off, or be lifted off?" he said cheerfully.

"Where are we?" she demanded.

"Ask me something easy," he returned. "I've been going it blind for an
hour, trying to hit the Soda Creek Trail, or any old trail that would
show me where I am. It's no use. Too dark. A man couldn't find his
way over country that he knew to-night if he had a lantern and a
compass."

"What on earth am I going to do?" Hazel cried desperately.

"Camp here till daylight," Roaring Bill answered evenly. "The only
thing you can do. Good Lord!" His hand accidentally rested on hers.
"You're like ice. I didn't think about you getting cold riding. I'm a
mighty thoughtless escort, I'm afraid. Get down and put on a coat, and
I'll have a fire in a minute."

"I suppose if I must, I must; but I can get off without any help, thank
you," Hazel answered ungraciously.

Roaring Bill made no reply, but stood back, and when her feet touched
solid earth he threw over her boulders the coat he had worn himself.
Then he turned away, and Hazel saw him stooping here and there, and
heard the crack of dry sticks broken over his knee. In no time he was
back to the horses with an armful of dry stuff, and had a small blaze
licking