She laid the old coat over the horse’s back, swung her brother’s saddle into place,—­she had none of her own, and could ride his, or without any; it made no difference, for she was perfectly at home on horseback,—­and strapped the girths with trembling fingers that were icy cold with excitement.  Across the saddle-bows she hung the two flour-sacks containing her provisions.  Then with added caution she tied some old burlap about each of the horse’s feet.  She must make no sound and leave no track as she stole forth into the great world.

The horse looked curiously down and whinnied at her, as she tied his feet up clumsily.  He did not seem to like his new habiliments, but he suffered anything at her hand.

“Hush!” she murmured softly, laying her cold hands across his nostrils; and he put his muzzle into her palm, and seemed to understand.

She led him out into the clear moonlight then, and paused a second, looking once more down the road that led away in front of the cabin; but no one was coming yet, though her heart beat high as she listened, fancying every falling bough or rolling stone was a horse’s hoof-beat.

There were three trails leading away from the cabin, for they could hardly be dignified by the name of road.  One led down the mountain toward the west, and was the way they took to the nearest clearing five or six miles beyond and to the supply store some three miles further.  One led off to the east, and was less travelled, being the way to the great world; and the third led down behind the cabin, and was desolate and barren under the moon.  It led down, back, and away to desolation, where five graves lay stark and ugly at the end.  It was the way they had taken that afternoon.

She paused just an instant as if hesitating which way to take.  Not the way to the west—­ah, any but that!  To the east?  Yes, surely, that must be the trail she would eventually strike; but she had a duty yet to perform.  That prayer was as yet unsaid, and before she was free to seek safety—­if safety there were for her in the wide world—­she must take her way down the lonely path.  She walked, leading the horse, which followed her with muffled tread and arched neck as if he felt he were doing homage to the dead.  Slowly, silently, she moved along into the river of moonlight and dreariness; for the moonlight here seemed cold, like the graves it shone upon, and the girl, as she walked with bowed head, almost fancied she saw strange misty forms flit past her in the night.

As they came in sight of the graves, something dark and wild with plumy tail slunk away into the shadows, and seemed a part of the place.  The girl stopped a moment to gain courage in full sight of the graves, and the horse snorted, and stopped too, with his ears a-quiver, and a half-fright in his eyes.

She patted his neck and soothed him incoherently, as she buried her face in his mane for a moment, and let the first tears that had dimmed her eyes since the blow had fallen come smarting their way out.  Then, leaving the horse to stand curiously watching her, she went down and stood at the head of the new-heaped mound.  She tried to kneel, but a shudder passed through her.  It was as if she were descending into the place of the dead herself; so she stood up and raised her eyes to the wide white night and the moon riding so high and far away.