lost I upon her. It was a ravening
beast, an ugly thing, big and brutal, and ... like King. Oh, how she
hated it and him!

When at last he waited for her and told her to get down she had the
suspicion that he had gone mad. Certainly here was no spot to tarry; it
was on her lips to demur. But she looked at his face and slipped stiffly
from the saddle. They were high up on the ridge; Gloria, on foot beside
him, clutched at the wind-twisted branch of one of the sprawling cliff
growths, in sudden panic that she was being swept from her feet. Just
below them was the deepening cleft in the mountain-side which, further
down, widened and descended into the steep-walled gorge. Through it
shot a mad, frothy stream. A hundred yards further on, high up in the
cliffs, was the yawning hole in the rocks. King, holding Buck's bridle,
looked about him and at the sky. Gloria read in his manner a hint of
uncertainty. Hoping to influence his decision, she said quickly:

"Hadn't we better turn back now?"

He looked at her steadily before answering.

"In what," he replied in that impersonal way which maddened her, "have
you so altered as to be worth a man's broken promise?" And then she knew
that no thought of going back had had any part in his brief indecision.
He was going forward, would go forward in anything he undertook; that
was a part of his make-up. He was merely seeking the best place to
unpack and a convenient spot to tether Buck. They were going to make
camp either right here or nearer the cave, perhaps in it. She looked at
the uninviting hole and shivered. She would know his decision when King
saw fit to enlighten her.

Now he merely dumped at her feet the roll from the horse's back, setting
his rifle down against it. Then he led Buck away, zigzagging tediously,
at last passing from sight beyond an out jutting monster crag. Gloria
crouched, seeking to shield herself from the whiplashes of the wind. She
listened to it as it shrieked about the slabs and boulders of granite;
the sound was indescribably eerie, filled with unrest, eloquent of the
brutal contempt of the eternal for the feeble and transient. The
universe grew utterly lonely; the wind was a whining thing cutting
through the silence. And King was so long in coming back....

The terrifying thought electrified her: "What if he had deserted her?
What if he had no intention of coming back?" She should have known
better; perhaps, deep down within her, she did know bette