"I am tired, but can go further."
Straight Cañon was threaded, and a narrow valley lay before them. Beyond another range loomed up darkly.
Crossing the valley they began to ascend a gentle slope. They had not gone far when at some little distance she heard a signal which was immediately answered by one of the Indians beside her. A few moments more, and the halting-place was reached.
Rude as were the accommodations, it was with a feeling of unutterable relief that Edith Van Payne rested her wearied limbs in her little prison-hut. She had scarce noticed the two or three lodges that were scattered around.
How long a halt would be made there she scarce thought it worth while to ask. The by no means unsavory viands that were brought her she put aside for the time almost untasted, only too glad to be at rest and alone.
CHAPTER XII.
"WHEN A WOMAN WILLS THERE'S NOTHING MORE TO SAY."
Daylight waned, and the shadows deepened. In the west the crimson flames that flared over the mountains died away, and the night-stars began to shimmer in their field of blue. A moist, sweet wind came wandering up from the woods. Edith sat within her little prison-house alone.
From time to time she heard voices without; but they came to her as if in a dream. The cold look of the woman had deepened till her face seemed like crystallized water itself.