The next instant she was silently pushing herself back into the depths of a clump of mountain ivy that grew beside the trail.
The men were coming down the trail. Now their voices sounded more clearly; now she caught the shuffle of their rough shoes, and now heard the heavy breathing of one as if carrying a load.
As they came abreast of her, she saw them dimly through the leaves. Then for a second her heart seemed to stop beating.
“A dog,” she breathed. “A long-eared hound!”
As the hound, with nose to the ground, came upon the spot where she had left the trail, he stopped short, gave a loud snort, then started straight into the bush.
“Come on, you!” one of the men grumbled, seizing him by the collar. “It’s only a rabbit.”
The dog struggled for a time, but a kick brought him back to his place behind his master and they traveled on down the hill.
“Saved!” the girl breathed as she dropped weakly upon the ground.
“And yet,” she thought as strength and courage came back to her, “why should I fear everyone here behind Pine Mountain?”
Why indeed? The experiences of the past hours had made fear a part of her nature.