as to a dream of
horror. As she rode, that other night came back to her, the night
she had ridden to save the shepherd, and she lived over again that
evening in the beautiful woods with Young Matt. Oh, if he were
only with her now! Unconsciously, at times, she called his name
aloud again and again, keeping time to the beat of her pony's
feet. At other times she urged Brownie on, and the little horse,
feeling the spirit of his mistress, answered with the best he had
to give. With eager, outstretched head, and wide nostrils, he ran
as though he understood the need.

How dark it was! At every bound they seemed plunging into a black
wall. What if there should be a tree blown across the road? At the
thought she grew faint. She saw herself lying senseless, and her
father carried away to prison. Then rallying, she held her seat
carefully. She must make it as easy as possible for Brownie, dear
little Brownie. How she strained her eyes to see into the black
night! How she prayed God to keep the little horse!

Only once in a lifetime, it seemed to her, did the pony's iron
shoe strike sparks of fire from the rocks, or the lightning give
her a quick glimpse of the road ahead. They must go faster,
faster, faster. Those men should not--they should not have her
Daddy Jim; not unless Brownie stumbled.

Where the road leaves the ridge for Fall Creek Valley, Sammy never
tightened the slack rein, and the pony never shortened his stride
by so much as an inch. It was well that he was hill bred, for none
but a mountain horse could have kept his feet at such a terrific
pace down the rocky slope. Down the valley road, past the mill,
and over the creek they flew; then up the first rise of the ridge
beyond. The pony was breathing hard now, and the girl encouraged
him with loving words and endearing terms; pleading with him to go
on, go on, go on.

At last they reached the top of the ridge. The way was easier now.
Here and there, where the clouds were breaking, the stars looked
through; but over the distant hills, the lightning still played,
showing which way the storm had gone; and against the sky, now
showing but dimly under ragged clouds and peeping stars, now
outlined clearly against the flashing light, she saw the round
treeless form of Old Dewey above her home.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

JIM LANE KEEPS HIS PROMISE.

Sammy, on her tired pony, approached the Lookout on the shoulder
of Dewey. As they drew near a figure rose quickly