that first warning roar brought by the wind.  Paul sprang to regain his horse, but the animal was startled by the suddenness of the attempt, and frightened by the rapid approach of the other horses, so that he jerked the bridle from his master’s grasp and reared beyond the reach of his hand.  There was no time to pursue the horse; worse still, there was no chance to seize the rifle which hung from the pommel of the saddle.  Paul had only one other weapon, the long hunting-knife carried by all the men of the wilderness.  He drew this from his belt and it flashed in the moonlight as he ran back to the pony’s head and stood between Ruth and the dimly visible danger which was rapidly approaching.

“They are coming the other way, too,” she gasped.  “I hear them behind us.”

He did not reply and could not turn.  She said nothing more and began sending up silent prayers.  They could no longer see even dimly, for thick clouds again covered the moon.  But she heard a fearful clash in the darkness, and then there followed those awful muffled sounds which are heard when men close silently in mortal combat.  There was no sharp sound of firing—­only the hideous thud of furious flesh against furious flesh—­the one sound that the bravest woman cannot hear in silence.  Ruth’s cry for help pierced the very heavens.  Again and again her anguished appeal rang through the night.  In the height of her frenzied fear she heard the galloping of a horse and knew that it was coming nearer.  This must be Philip Alston.  The flash of the thought brought a gleam of hope and sent her louder cry farther into the darkness.

“Uncle Philip, for God’s sake, come to me!  Quick! quick!  It’s Ruth—­uncle Philip!  Philip Alston!”

Instantly all was still.  The invisible conflict which had been waging with such fury so near by, now ceased as suddenly and as completely as if it had been ended by an unseen lightning stroke.  The assailants silently drew back and stood motionless; but Ruth could not see what was taking place, and this sudden, strange stillness falling upon utter darkness filled her with greater terror.  She thought that Paul had been killed.  Alive, he would not leave her alone like this.  Not for an instant would he forget her if he had strength to creep to her side.  He was dead.  He would never let these torturing moments pass without speaking to her if he had breath to speak.

“Uncle Philip!  Philip Alston!” she cried again and again.  “Don’t you know me?  It’s Ruth.”

“Here, I’m coming!” a man’s voice shouted out of the distance.  “Where are you?  Speak again.  Let me find you by the sound.”

“They have killed him!” she shrieked.  “I can’t find him in the dark.”

She was out of the saddle now, bending down and groping with her shaking, tender little hands on the torn and trampled earth.  A wilder gust of wind brought the beat of rapidly retreating hoofs to her strained ears.  She sprang up with a new fear and cried it aloud high and far above the shriek of the wind.