SWAN TALKS WITH HIS THOUGHTS Lorraine, following instinct rather than thought, pulled Yellowjacket into the first opening that presented itself.

This was a narrow, rather precipitous gully that seamed the slope just beyond the bend.

The bushes there whipped her head and shoulders cruelly as the horse forged in among them, but they trapped him effectually where the gully narrowed to a point.

He stopped perforce, and Lorraine was out of the saddle and running down to the trail before she quite realized what she was doing.
At the bend she looked down, saw the marks where the wagon had gone over, scraping rocks and bushes from its path.

Fence posts were strewn at all angles down the incline, and far down a horse was standing with part of the harness on him and with his head drooping dispiritedly.