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.
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