nd was gone from the room. He stood a moment with a
hand raised to his face.

"After all," he muttered, "that's enough to die for, and--" He threw
up his long arms in a gesture of infinite resignation.

"The will of God be done!" said Wilbur, and laughed again.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE TRAIL

She was ready, crouched close to the window of her room, when the
signal came, but first she was not sure, because the sound was as faint
as a memory. Moreover, it might have been a freakish whistling in the
wind, which rose stronger and stronger. It had piled the
thunder-clouds high and higher, and now and again a heavy drop of rain
tapped at her window like a thrown pebble.

So she waited, and at last heard the whistle a second time,
unmistakably clear. In a moment she was hurrying down to the stable,
climbed into the saddle, and rode at a cautious trot out among the
sand-hills.

For a time she saw no one, and commenced to fear that the whole thing
had been a gruesomely real, practical jest. So she stopped her horse
and imitated the signal whistle as well as she could. It was repeated
immediately behind her--almost in her ear, and she turned to make out
the dark form of a tall horseman.

"A bad night for the start," called Wilbur. "Do you want to wait till
to-morrow?"

She could not answer for a moment, the wind whipping against her face,
while a big drop stung her lips.

She said at length: "Would a night like this stop Pierre--or McGurk?"

For answer she heard his laughter.

"Then I'll start. I must never stop for weather."

He rode up beside her.

"This is the start of the finish."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. But somewhere on this ride, I've an idea a question will be
answered for me."

"What question?"

Instead of replying he said: "You've got a slicker on?"

"Yes."

"Then follow me. We'll gallop into the wind a while and get the horses
warmed up. Afterward we'll take the valley of the Old Crow and follow
it up to the crest of the range."

His horse lunged out ahead of hers, and she followed, leaning far
forward against a wind that kept her almost breathless. For several
minutes they cantered steadily, and before the end of the gallop she
was sitting straight up, her heart beating fast, a faint smile on her
lips, and the blood running hot in her veins. For the battle was
begun, she knew, by that first sharp gallop, and here at the start she
felt confident of her strength. When