To maintain even that pace she had to use the spurs continually, for the white horse was deadly weary, and his head fell more and more.
She decided to make a brief halt, at last, and in order to make a fire that would take the chill of the cold morning from her, she swung up to the edge of the woods.

There, before she could dismount, she saw a man turn the shoulder of the slope.

She drew the horse back deeper among the trees and waited.
He came with a halting step, reeling now and again, a big man, hatless, coatless, apparently at the last verge of exhaustion.

Now his foot apparently struck a small rock, and he pitched to his face.

It required a long struggle before he could regain his feet; and now he continued his journey at the same gait, only more uncertainly than ever, close and closer.