As the day grew clearer, she began to study the surroundings. All seemed
utter desolation. There was no sign that any one had ever passed that way
before; and yet, just as she had thought that, the horse stopped and
snorted, and there in the rocks before them lay a man's hat riddled with
shot. Peering fearfully around, the girl saw a sight which made her turn
icy cold and begin to tremble; for there, below them, as if he had fallen
from his horse and rolled down the incline, lay a man on his face.
For the instant fear held her riveted, with the horse, one figure like a
statue, girl and beast; the next, sudden panic took hold upon her. Whether
the man were dead or not, she must make haste. It might be he would come
to himself and pursue her, though there was that in the rigid attitude of
the figure down below that made her sure he had been dead some time. But
how had he died? Scarcely by his own hand. Who had killed him? Were there
fiends lurking in the fastnesses of the mountain growth above her?
With guarded motion she urged her horse forward, and for miles beyond the
horse scrambled breathlessly, the girl holding on with shut eyes, not
daring to look ahead for fear of seeing more terrible sights, not daring
to look behind for fear of--what she did not know.
At last the way sloped downward, and they reached more level ground, with
wide stretches of open plain, dotted here and there with sage-brush and
greasewood.
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