d cloudy night, warmer and threatening rain. She
kept continually turning round and round to see what it was that came
creeping up behind her so stealthily. How horrible was the dark--the
blackness that showed invisible things! A wolf sent up his hungry,
lonely cry. She did not fear this reality so much as she feared the
intangible. If she lived through this night, there would be another like
it to renew the horror. She would rather not live. Like a creature beset
by foes all around she watched; she faced every little sound; she peered
into the darkness, instinctively unable to give up, to end the struggle,
to lie down and die.

Neale seemed to be with her. He was alive. He was thinking of her at
that very moment. He would expect her to overcome self and accident and
calamity. He spoke to her out of the distance and his voice had the old
power, stronger than fear, exhaustion, hopelessness, insanity. He could
call her back from the grave.

And so the night passed.

In the morning, when the sun lit the level land, far down the trail
westward gleamed a long white line of moving wagons.

Allie uttered a wild and broken cry, in which all the torture shuddered
out of her heart. Again she was saved! That black doubt was shame to her
spirit. She prayed her thanksgiving, and vowed in her prayers that no
adversity, however cruel, could ever again shake her faith or conquer
her spirit.

She was going on to meet Neale. Life was suddenly sweet again,
unutterably full, blazing like the sunrise. He was there--somewhere to
the eastward.

She waited. The caravan was miles away. But it was no mirage, no trick
of the wide plain! She watched. If the hours of night had been long,
what were these hours of day with life and the chance of happiness ever
advancing?

At last she saw the scouts riding in front and alongside, and the
plodding oxen. It was a large caravan, well equipped for defense.

She left the little rise of ground and made for the trail. How uneven
the walking! She staggered. Her legs were weak. But she gained the trail
and stood there. She waved. They were not so far away. Surely she would
be seen. She staggered on--waved again.

There! The leading scout had halted. He pointed. Other riders crowded
around him. The caravan came to a stop.

Allie heard voices. She waved her arms and tried to run. A scout
dismounted, advanced to meet her, rifle ready. The caravan feared a
Sioux trick. Allie described a lean, gray old