traceable, although neither of us dared to mount, and trust to the uncertain footing of the horses. However, bad as it was, it was now too late to retrace our steps, and we pressed grimly forward, holding firm to the bridle reins, and moving with the utmost caution. As we mounted higher, twisting and turning among the scrub, the valley we had left lay dark and mysterious below, the sun ever sinking lower behind the opposite ridge, until its final rays fairly bridged the chasm. It had disappeared entirely by the time we breathlessly attained the top, yet the western sky was red, the remaining light amply sufficient to enable us to perceive our surroundings. Indeed, it would be an hour, perhaps more, before night enshrouded this high ridge.
We halted beside the chimney rock to regain breath after the toilsome climb, and assure ourselves that the way beyond was clear. Noreen seated herself on the ground, and the horses began to graze, but I walked forward to where I could gain better view. The summit of the hill was open, except for a considerable grove to the rear of the church. That edifice appeared, as I remembered it, unchanged in any respect—a fairly large building, constructed solidly of logs, with square clapboarded tower in front, four windows on each side, containing small panes of glass, a number of them broken. We were
