Alice Deringham could ride, but when they left the clearing and plunged into the bush she found that all she had been taught in England was not much use in British Columbia.

There was no perceptible trail, and the horses floundered round great fallen trees, and plunged smashing through thickets of black raspberry and barberry.

In places their flanks were brushed by tall, black-stemmed fern, and where the forest was more open treacherous gravel slipped beneath the hoofs that sank from sight amidst the blood-red clusters of the little wineberry.

After an hour of it the girl was shaken and breathless, and she contemplated her habit somewhat ruefully when Seaforth drew bridle.

Somewhere far up on a hill shoulder there was a smashing in the bush.
"Are you sure you have not lost the way ?" she said.