CHAPTER XLIV.
THE GIRL’S FLIGHT.
Ellen West, much relieved by the ceasing of that terrible baying of the hounds, stumbled on through the darkness, over the rough stones that cut her feet and tore her clothing, filled with the hopeful assurance that whatever befell her she was for the time out of the power of Panther Pete and his gang of desperadoes.
By and by when she felt that she could go not another step, being utterly spent, she sank down on the ground.
About her was darkness and silence, with the kindly stars looking down on her. Sometimes she wondered if she were not dreaming, and would soon awake in her own home and discover that all this was but a wild nightmare. But the chill of the night air, after her exertions, told her soon that it was all too real.
She crawled beneath an overhanging rock for shelter, and there, after a time, she fell asleep.
She was so worn that she slept heavily, in spite of all that had happened, and did not awake until the sun was beating hot in her face. She aroused, with a start, and looked about uneasily.
She saw that her clothing was torn and draggled, and that her shoes were cut by the rocks, which had also cut her feet. Her hands and arms, and her face, were scratched.
She started up, fearing pursuit; and then, seeing nothing, and hearing nothing, she began to take stock of her situation. It was bad enough, but so much better than it had been that she felt hopeful.
She shuddered at the memory of Panther Pete lying as if dead on the earthen floor of the hut, where she had struck him down. But she could not blame herself for that seemingly bloody deed; self-preservation is the first law of nature, and she had acted according to the law.
When she tried to go on she found that she was so stiff and sore from her tremendous exertions that at first she could hardly walk; but she forced herself to move on, and this feeling began to wear slowly away.