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And when he reached the cedar belt he knew that the railway man had spoken the truth, but he held on up the ever-steepening trail, ceasing his song only when he needed the breath to climb. A cottontail waved its beacon for a minute before him, then darted into the underbrush; the mountain jays called out a wailing cry; and the flicker clucked above.
And still her voice failed to tremble as he had thought it must. "The old dodge is all that's left us," he told her. "When I say the word, pull up a little and slide out of the saddle. Let your horse run on and you duck into the brush." "And you?" "I'm with you, of course." And presently, when they were in the shadows of the ever-steepening mountain side, he called softly: "Now!"
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