of a coyote checked the scouring feet of this swift
Camilla, and sent her back precipitately to the buggy. Nevertheless,
she was refreshed and able to pursue her journey, until the cold gray
of early morning found her at the end of her second stage.

Her route was changed again from the main highway, rendered dangerous
by the approach of day and the contiguity of the neighboring
_rancheros_. The road was rough and hilly, her new horse and vehicle in
keeping with the rudeness of the route--by far the most difficult of
her whole journey. The rare wagon tracks that indicated her road were
often scarcely discernible; at times they led her through openings in
the half-cleared woods, skirted suspicious morasses, painfully climbed
the smooth, domelike hills, or wound along perilous slopes at a
dangerous angle. Twice she had to alight and cling to the sliding
wheels on one of those treacherous inclines, or drag them from
impending ruts or immovable mire. In the growing light she could
distinguish the distant, low-lying marshes eaten by encroaching sloughs
and insidious channels, and beyond them the faint gray waste of the
Lower Bay. A darker peninsula in the marsh she knew to be the extreme
boundary of her future home: the Rancho de los Cuervos. In another hour
she began to descend to the plain, and once more to approach the main
road, which now ran nearly parallel with her track. She scanned it
cautiously for any early traveler; it stretched north and south in
apparent unending solitude. She struck into it boldly, and urged her
horse to the top of his speed, until she reached the cross-road that
led to the rancho. But here she paused and allowed the reins to drop
idly on the mustang's back. A singular and unaccountable irresolution
seized her. The difficulties of her journey were over; the rancho lay
scarcely two miles away; she had achieved the most important part of
her task in the appointed time; but she hesitated. What had she come
for? She tried to recall Poindexter's words, even her own enthusiasm,
but in vain. She was going to take possession of her husband's
property, she knew, that was all. But the means she had taken seemed
now so exaggerated and mysterious for that simple end, that she began
to dread an impending something, or some vague danger she had not
considered, that she was rushing blindly to meet. Full of this strange
feeling, she almost mechanically stopped her horse as she entered the
cross-road.

From t