ackless
wilderness.

For a moment Molly hesitated. Should she go back and give up this chase?
Turning around she gazed about her and could not tell which way she had
come.

"Why! I couldn't go back, even if I tried. I don't see any track and--I
must follow him. I can hear him on ahead, by the breaking
branches--Forward, Queenie, quick, quick!"

But Queenie wasn't pleased to "forward." She shrank from the rude
pressure of the undergrowth against her delicate shanks and, for an
instant, set her forefeet stubbornly among the ferns and brambles. But
Molly was now past tenderness with any mount which would not do her will
and Queenie was forced into the path she hated to tread. Already the
brief delay had cost her the sound of the gray mare's progress. There
was neither breaking twig nor footfall to tell her whither that
tormenting Anton had vanished. There was only the bruised herbage to
show which way he had ridden and she must follow; and for a long time
she kept her eyes on that faint lead and steadily pursued it.

Then she came to a partly open glade and there she lost the trail
entirely. Across this glade Anton had certainly passed but in which
direction she couldn't even guess. She reined Queenie to a stand and
called:

"Anton! Anton! ANTON!!" and after another interval, again: "ANTON!"

There was an agony of fear in that last cry. Had Anton heard it, even
his mischievous heart would have been touched and he would have ridden
back to reassure her. But he did not hear her. He had now struck out
from that narrow clearing into a road he knew well, by the blazed trees
and the wheel-marks the camp-teamster had left upon it. The undergrowth
had sprung up again, almost as completely as before it had been first
disturbed, and even had Molly found that trail she would not have known
enough to trace it.

But he was now on his own right road. She was where--she pleased. He had
not asked her to come, he had tried to make her go back. He had not
wanted her at all, but she had taunted him, distrusted him, and yet he
knew that this once he was proving trustworthy. He felt that little
packet safe in his blouse and patted the cloth above it commendingly.

"Good boy, Anton. If 'tis worth payment, this payment the so rich Judge
will give. That girl rides well. Let her take care of herself. Go,
Bess!"

He fished a little, fired a shot or two at some flying bird, then
remembered that a shot might be heard and those from the ca