Ragged wisps of
clouds chased each other across the blue when they set out again.
Hazel walked the stiffness out of her muscles before she mounted. When
she did get on Silk, Roaring Bill increased his pace. He was
long-legged and light of foot, apparently tireless. She asked no
questions. What was the use? He would eventually come out somewhere.
She was resigned to wait.
After a time she began to puzzle, and the old uneasiness came back.
The last trailing banner of cloud vanished, and the sun rode clear in
an opal sky, smiling benignly down on the forested land. She was thus
enabled to locate the cardinal points of the compass. Wherefore she
took to gauging their course by the shadows. And the result was what
set her thinking. Over level and ridge and swampy hollow, Roaring Bill
drove straight north in an undeviating line. She recollected that the
point from which she had lost her way had lain northeast of Cariboo
Meadows. Even if they had swung in a circle, they could scarcely be
pointing for the town in that direction. For another hour Bill held to
the northern line as a needle holds to the pole. A swift rush of
misgiving seized her.
"Mr. Wagstaff!" she called sharply.
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