When she dared, she looked in that direction, hesitant at first, then lingering. But all she could see was the same stretch of distance with mountains in the boundaries everywhere—not a living thing except her and the horse. And the sun shone steadily, hotly down and shimmered back again from the bright earth, and nothing broke the awful repose of the lonely space. It was as if she’d suddenly been caught up and flung out into a world where no other living being dwelt.

Why didn’t they come after her? Surely she’d see them coming soon. Then she recalled that her father and brother were ahead and out of sight for some time before her race started and wouldn’t know she was gone at first. But of course Mr. Hamar would do something; he wouldn’t leave her helpless. Years of trusting him assured her of that.

For an instant she forgot the cause of her flight. Then suddenly she remembered with a sickening thought. He’d been a hero to her, suffering daily through a wife’s carelessness and lack of understanding, but he stepped down from his pedestal and became the lowest of the low. He dared to kiss her! He said he’d marry her—he, a married man! Her whole soul revolted against him again, and now she was glad she’d run away and the horse had taken her so far, glad she showed him how terrible the whole thing had seemed to her.

She was even glad her father and brother were far away just now, until she adjusted to life once more. How could she face them after what happened? How could she ever live in the same world with that man again? How could she have thought so much of him? She’d almost worshipped him and was so pleased when he seemed to enjoy her company and complimented her! And he’d meant—this—all the time! He’d looked at her with that thought in his mind!

Hazel closed her eyes and shuddered at the memory of his voice and face. Tears ran down her face as she sobbed aloud. Her head bowed lower over the horse’s neck; her hair fell down about her shoulders and beat against the animal’s chest and sides as he ran; her stiffened fingers clutched his mane to keep her balance. The girl’s weary form drooped over his neck in growing exhaustion, while her entire being alternated between waves of anger, revulsion, and fear.

Perhaps all this had its effect on the animal. Perhaps somewhere within lay a spot, call it instinct or whatever, that responded to the distress of the human creature he carried. Or perhaps he simply grew tired. For he slowed his pace, until he was walking and finally stopped. Then he turned his head about with a neigh.

She was startled not to be moving anymore and clutched the horse’s mane even tighter, frightened by the vast spaces about her, the loneliness of the spot and her own desolate condition. She had wanted the horse to stop and let her get down to solid ground. But now she didn’t dare. As the tension in her nerves and muscles lessened, however, she felt as if she couldn’t sit up any longer and must lie down. Perhaps then her body would stop trembling all over.

The horse turned his nose toward her again with a snuff and a snort. Then a panic seized her. What if he started to run again? She’d surely be thrown this time, for her strength was almost gone. She must get down and take hold of the reins. Then she might hope to guide his movements and prevent any more wild riding.

Slowly she took her foot out of the stirrup and slipped to the ground. Her cramped feet refused to hold her weight, and she fell. The horse then sidled away from her and began cropping the grass hungrily.

The girl sank down at full length on the ground and for a moment felt as if she’d never rise again. She was too weary to lift her hand or move the foot that was twisted under her into a more comfortable position or even think.