Ford knew that every rod would aggravate that strained shoulder and that a stop would probably make it impossible for the horse to go on at all.
He was not quite sure, after all those windings where he could not see, just where it was he had seen the girl, but he recognized at last the undulating outline of the ridge over which she had appeared, and made what haste he could up the slope.

The grazing horse was no longer in sight, though he knew it might be feeding in a hollow near by.
He had almost given up hope of finding her, when he turned his head and saw her off to one side, lying half concealed by a clump of low rose bushes.

She was not unconscious, as he had thought, but was crying silently, with her face upon her folded arms and her hat askew over one ear.

He stooped and touched her upon the shoulder.
She lifted her head and looked at him, and drew away with a faint, withdrawing gesture, which was very slight in itself but none the less eloquent and unmistakable.

Ford backed a step when he saw it and closed his lips without speaking the words he had meant to say.
[Illustration: She lifted her head and looked at him, and drew away.] "Well, what do you want ?" the girl asked ungraciously, after a minute spent in fumbling unseen hairpins and in straightening her hat.