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The Red Mist

drink, the increasing daylight gave me glimpse of a bridle path skirting the edge of the stream along the west bank. Beyond doubt it led to some squatter's cabin, hidden away under protection of the overhanging hill, and, whether occupied or not, promised shelter, and possibly food. I pointed the dim trail out to her, and dismounted, with the purpose of exploring.

"Stay here just a moment until I see where the path leads," I said, holding up my rein.

"I would rather go with you."

"But the horses," I protested, "and I will not be long."

"Let us take them back into the woods, and tie them, and go together," she pleaded. "I do not know why I am so nervous; I—I am ashamed of myself, but I do not want to be left here alone."

I laughed, yet the expression of her face proved the truth of her words, and I helped her down.

"All right," I assented cheerfully. "There is probably nothing more dangerous ahead of us than a deserted cabin, but we'll take the venture together. Here, let me take the reins."

I led the animals far enough back to be well out of sight from the road, hitching them securely behind a thicket of undergrowth. She followed me closely, grasping her skirt with one hand, and, with-