She sat up and looked around.

She noticed the load of logs and the one horse.

Someone was riding after help for her! "Oh, poor Freckles!" she wailed.

"They may be killing him by now.

Oh, how much time have I wasted ?" She hurried to the other bay, her fingers flying as she set him free.
Snatching up a big blacksnake whip that lay on the ground, she caught the hames, stretched along the horse's neck, and, for the first time, the fine, big fellow felt on his back the quality of the lash that Duncan was accustomed to crack over him.