out their tracks. When they passed the main camp, Dorothy
saw that the lodges had been pulled down, and were being
packed on _travois_, [Footnote: Two crossed poles with
cross pieces trailing from the back of a pony.] preparatory
to a forced march. She noted that the sleighs had been
abandoned, as, of course, there were no wheels there to
take the place of the runners. Her own slender belongings
were secured on the back of a pack-horse, and the squaw
saw to it that she had her full complement of provisions
and camp paraphernalia such as suited the importance of
her prisoner.

Poor Dorothy! There would, however, be no more tea or
sugar, or other things she had been accustomed to, for
many a long day, but, after all, that was of no particular
moment There was pure water in the streams, and there
would soon be any amount of luscious wild berries in the
woods, and plants by the loamy banks of creeks that made
delicious salads and spinaches, and they would bring such
a measure of health with them that she would experience
what the spoilt children of fortune, and the dwellers in
cities, can know little about--the mere physical joy of
being alive--the glorious pulsing of the human machine.

They kept steadily on their way till dusk, and then halted
for a brief space. The party was a small one now, only
some half-dozen braves and a few squaws. Dorothy wandered
with her jailer, whom she had for shortness called the
Falling Star, to a little rise, and looked down upon the
great desolate, purpling land in which evidently Nature
had been amusing herself. There were huge, pillar-like
rocks streaked with every colour of the rainbow, from
pale pink and crimson to slate-blue. There were yawning
canyons, on the scarped sides of which Nature had been
fashioning all manner of grotesqueries--gargoyles and
griffins, suggestions of many-spired cathedrals, the
profile of a face which was that of an angel, and of
another which was so weirdly and horribly ugly--suggesting
as it did all that was evil and sinister--that one shivered
and looked away. All these showed themselves like
phantasmagoria, and startled one with a suggestion of
intelligent design. But it was not with the face of the
cliff alone that Nature had trifled.

The gigantic boulders of coloured clays, strewn about
all higgledy-piggledy, resolved themselves into uncouth
antediluvian monsters, with faces so suggestive of
something human and malign that they were more lik