But how had he died?
Scarcely by his own hand.

Who had killed him?
Were there fiends lurking in the fastnesses of the mountain growth above her?
With guarded motion she urged her horse forward, and for miles beyond the horse scrambled breathlessly, the girl holding on with shut eyes, not daring to look ahead for fear of seeing more terrible sights, not daring to look behind for fear of--what she did not know.
At last the way sloped downward, and they reached more level ground, with wide stretches of open plain, dotted here and there with sage-brush and greasewood.
She had been hungry back there before she came upon the dead man; but now the hunger had gone from her, and in its place was only faintness.

Still, she dared not stop long to eat.

She must make as much time as possible here in this open space, and now she was where she could be seen more easily if any one were in pursuit.
But the horse had decided that it was time for breakfast.

He had had one or two drinks of water on the mountain, but there had been no time for him to eat.