It was too late now to retreat, however, she told herself bravely, and out she went.

“Say, git a move, young feller,” said the hostler with her pony.  “I ain’t got time to play horse-post here all day.”

“Thank you for being so prompt,” said Beth, in a voice that was faint, despite her efforts to be masculine, and she gave him a coin.

“I’ll tie that there bundle on behind,” he volunteered, less gruffly, and Beth was glad of his assistance.

A moment later she took a gasp of breath and mounted to the seat.  Collapse of all the project had seemed imminent, but an actual feeling of relief and security ensued when she was settled in the saddle.

“So long,” said the hostler, and Beth responded manfully, “So long.”

She rode out slowly, towards the one main road.  A feeling of the morning’s chill assailed her, making her shiver.  The noise of her pony’s hoof-beats seemed alarmingly resonant.

But nothing happened.  The streets were deserted, save for a few half-drunken wanderers, headed for the nearest saloon.  On the far-off peaks of the mountains the rosy light of sunrise faintly appeared.  In the calm of the great barren spaces, even Goldite was beautiful at last.

A sense of exhilaration pervaded Beth’s youthful being.  She was glad of what she had done.  It was joyous, it was splendid, this absolute freedom in all this stern old world!

The road wound crookedly up a hill, as it left the streets of the town behind.  The scattered tents extended for a mile in this direction, the squares of silent canvas, like so many dice, cast on the slopes by a careless fate that had cast man with them in the struggle.

Beth and her pony finally topped the hill, to be met by a sea of mountains out beyond.  Up and down these mighty billows of the earth the highway meandered, leading onward and southward through the desert.

The mare was urged to a gallop, down an easy slope, then once more she walked as before.  All the mountains in the west were rosy now, till presently the sun was up, a golden coin, struck hot from the very mints of God, giving one more day with its glory.

Its very first rays seemed a comfort, suggesting a welcome warmth.  Beth could have called out songs of gladness well nigh uncontainable.  She had all the big world to herself.  Even the strangely twisted clouds in the sky seemed made for her delight.  They were rare in this wonderful dome of blue and therefore things of beauty.

For an hour or more her way was plain, and to ride was a god-like privilege.  Her ease of mind was thoroughly established.  What had been the necessity for all those qualms of fear?  The matter was simple, after all.

It was ten o’clock before she ate her breakfast.  She had come to the so-called river, the only one in perhaps a hundred miles.  It was quite a respectable stream at this particular season, but spread very thinly and widely at the ford.