Every moment or so she turned in the saddle suddenly in the hope of
getting a glimpse of the follower, but even when she surveyed the
entire stretch of country from the crest of a low hill, she saw
nothing--not the least sign of life.
She rode slowly, this day, for she was stiff and sore from the violent
journey of the night before, but though she went slowly, she kept
steadily at the trail. It was a broad and pleasant one, being the
beaten sand of the river-bottom; and the horse she rode was the
finest that ever pranced beneath her.
His trot was as smooth and springy as the gallop of most horses, and
when she let him run over a few level stretches, it was as if she had
suddenly been taken up from the earth on wings. There was something
about the animal, too, which reminded her of its vanished owner; for
it had strength and pride and gentleness at once. Unquestionably
it took kindly to its new rider; for once when she dismounted the big
horse walked up behind and nuzzled her shoulder.
The mountains were much plainer before the end of the day.
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