The horses seemed to know the road well. At least they stretched out, plunging on with unfaltering steps into the darkness. Before long the thrill and thrall of her fear wore off, and, as no savage yells or echoing hoof-beats resounded behind her, she coolly settled herself to the work before her. The long twilight had died away, and the moon, nearly full, was up and shining directly through the narrow road, doubling the gloom that lay upon the wooded and rocky slopes on each side,—so that she seemed riding along a path of light laid upon and through a bed of darkness. Her quick eye ranged along this path, now and then diving into the darkness upon either side of her; yet seeing nothing but rocks and trees.
Yet, there was some one near. Not a hundred yards ahead of her, just in the shade of the trees, his wariness all excited by the noise of ringing hoof-strokes, Bill Blaze was sitting in his saddle with eyes strained to catch sight of the person so recklessly approaching. And when he saw the woman bearing down upon him, the riderless horse galloping at her side, he could scarce refrain from a shout of triumph as he recognized in her the object of his search.
"Minks and mushrats!" thought he. "Blam'd ef she ain't Dick Martin's gal. A trump, by mitey! She's cleaned out the hull b'iling; stampeded ther corral, an' 's bringin' the pick o' the lot into camp! Bill Blaze an' her 'll move inter Back Load camp rejoicin'. Waugh!"
When the fast rider was galloping by, she heard at her left a voice, calling to her in what seemed a guarded tone:
"Hullo, thar! Back Load Trace! Dick Martin! Van Payne! Friends. Hullo! hold on, friends!"
She looked hastily toward the spot from which the voice proceeded. A man, evidently a white man and a trapper from his garb, pushed out from the shadows, and rode toward her.
For a moment she hesitated, undecided whether to augment her speed, or to wait for him. The sight of a white man seemed a sign of aid and comfort. Again he hailed her. In the moonlight she could see that he held his right hand up, with the palm open and toward her; a sign of amity. Confidence came to her by inspiration, and without a struggle she allowed him to range up to her side. When he came nearer, she knew that she had never seen him among the Free Trappers who followed the beck of Martin.
"There is little time for talk now. I know not how closely pursuers may be behind us. What we have to say we must say as we gallop on. I see that you know me, and I need not stop to explain."
"That's all right. We've bin on the scout arter ye, an' I war jest rollin' slow into what I thort war blam'd dangerous diggin's. Wouldn't wonder ef you've saved my skulp; an' yer chances won't be any the wuss fur hevin' Bill Blaze to steer yer through this yere diffikilty."
"Do you know this country? I took this route by chance, without knowing whither I was going; and only determined on riding on till I found myself—somewhere."