Only when they were passing the Ranger Station and Sibyl saw the lights through the trees, did she, for a moment, renew her struggle.  With all her strength she strained to release her hands.  One cry from her strong, young voice would bring Brian Oakley so quickly after the automobile that her safety would be assured.  On that mountain road, the chestnut would soon run them down.  She even tried to throw herself from the car; but, bound as she was, the hand of her companion easily prevented, and she sank back in the seat, exhausted by her useless exertion.

At the foot of the Oak Knoll trail the automobile stopped.  The man who had been following on Sibyl’s horse came up quickly.  Swiftly, the two men worked; placing sacks of supplies and blankets—­as the girl guessed—­on the animal.  Presently, the one who had bound her, lifted her gently from the automobile “Don’t hurt yourself, Miss,” he said in her ear, as he carried her toward the horse.  “It will do you no good.”  And the girl did not again resist, as he lifted her to the saddle.

The driver of the car said something to his companion in a low tone, and Sibyl heard her captor answer, “The girl will be as safe with me as if she were in her own home.”

Again, the other spoke, and the girl heard only the reply; “Don’t worry; I understand that.  I’ll go through with it.  You’ve left me no chance to do anything else.”

Then, stepping to the horse’s head and taking the bridle-rein, the man who seemed to be under orders, led the way up the canyon.  Behind them, the girl heard the automobile starting on its return.  The sound died away in the distance.  The silence of the night was disturbed only by the sound of the man’s hob-nailed boots and the horse’s iron-shod feet on the road.

Once, her captor halted a moment, and, coming to the horse’s shoulder, asked if she was comfortable.  The girl bowed her head.  “I’m sorry for that gag,” he said.  “As soon as it’s safe, I’ll remove it; but I dare not take chances.”  He turned abruptly away and they went on.

Dimly, Sibyl saw, in her companion’s manner, a ray of hope.  That no immediate danger threatened, she was assured.  That the man was acting against his will, was as evident.  Wisely, she resolved to bend her efforts toward enlisting his sympathies,—­to make it hard for him to carry out the purpose of whoever controlled him,—­instead of antagonizing him by continued resistance and repeated attempts to escape, and so making it easier for him to do his master’s bidding.

Leaving the canyon by the Laurel Creek trail, they reached Burnt Pine, where the man removed the handkerchief that sealed the girl’s lips.

“Oh, thank you,” she said quietly.  “That is so much better.”

“I’m sorry that I had to do it,” he returned, as he unbound her arms.  “There, you may get down now, and rest, while I fix a bit of lunch for you.”

The girl sprang to the ground.  “It is a relief to be free,” she said.  “But, really, I’m not a bit tired.  Can’t I help you with the pack?”