be unpleasantly shaken and her lips were quivering. Clavering
helped her to her feet, and then caught the horse.

"The wretched thing turned round and slid me off," she said, when he came
back with it, pointing to the rug.

Clavering tugged at the extemporized girth. "I am afraid you can only try
again. I don't think it will slip now," he said.

Miss Schuyler, who had evidently lost her nerve, mounted with difficulty
and after trotting for some minutes pulled up once more, and was sitting
still looking about her hopelessly when Clavering rejoined her.

"I am very sorry, but I really can't hold on," she said.

Clavering glanced at the prairie, and Hetty looked at him. Nothing moved
upon all the empty plain which was fading to a curious dusky blue.
Darkness crept up across it from the east, and a last faint patch of
orange was dying out on its western rim, while with the approaching night
there came a stinging cold.

"It might be best if you rode on, Miss Torrance, and sent a sleigh back
for us," he said. "Walk your horse, Miss Schuyler, and I'll keep close
beside you. If you fell I could catch you."

Hetty's face was anxious, but she shook her head. "No, it was my fault,
and I mean to see it through," she said. "You couldn't keep catching her
all the time, you know. I'm not made of eider-down, and she's a good deal
heavier than me. It really is a pity you can't ride, Flo."

"Nevertheless," said Miss Schuyler tartly, "I can't--without a saddle--and
I'm quite thankful I can't drive."

Hetty said nothing, and they went on in silence, until when a dusky bluff
appeared on the skyline, Clavering, taking the bridle, led Miss Schuyler's
horse into a forking trail.

"This is not the way to Allonby's," said Hetty.

"No," said Clavering quietly. "I'm afraid you would be frozen before you
got there. The homestead-boys who chop their fuel in the bluff have,
however, some kind of shelter, and I'll make you a big fire."

"But----" said Hetty.

Clavering checked her with a gesture. "Please let me fix this thing for
you," he said. "It is getting horribly cold already."

They went on a trifle faster without another word, and presently, with
crackle of dry twigs beneath them, plodded into the bush. Dim trees
flitted by them, branches brushed them as they passed, and the stillness
and shadowiness affected Miss Schuyler uncomfortably. She started with a
cry when there was a sharp patter amidst the dusty snow; but Clavering's