She wanted to recross the swamp and try to reach the horse.

She knew Freckles would brave any danger to save her crossing the swamp alone, but she really was not afraid, while the trail added over a mile to the walk.

She knew the path.

She intended to run for dear life the instant she felt herself from their sight, and tucked in the folds of her blouse was a fine little 32-caliber revolver that her father had presented her for her share in what he was pleased to call her military exploit.

One last glance at Freckles showed her the agony in his eyes, and immediately she imagined he had some other reason.