glance she saw that he had his back upon her, and that he gave neither hint of softening nor yet of knowledge of her presence.  He bridled the buckskin, saddled, tied his rope at the saddle-horn, and began making his pack.  She watched, uneasy and concerned but not yet fully understanding.  But when she noted how he took from their breakfast-table one cup, one plate, one knife and fork, only; how he did not appear interested in the marmalade-jar which she knew had been brought for her; how he left half of the coffee and bacon and sugar; a strange alarm came over her.  She glanced wildly around.  The forest glowered darkly; the silence was overpowering; the loneliness bewildering.  He was going to leave her—­she had not the faintest idea in the world where the trail lay.

King went swiftly about his preparations.  He did not even see her; he studiously kept his eyes aloof.  Within his soul he swore that he would never look at her again....He took up his rifle.

Gloria stirred uneasily.  She did not like to yield to him even to the extent of saying a stiff word.  But she felt that the man was not playing a part, and that in another moment she would be alone.

“You are not going to leave me here alone, are you?” she demanded coldly.

“I am going on,” was his curt rejoinder.

“And I?” she persisted.

“What you please.”

He went on with his preparations.  Terror sprang up into the girl’s heart.

“I would never find my way out,” she cried, jumping to her feet and coming toward him.  “I am not used to the mountains ...I don’t know which way ...I would die....”

“To be rid of you the easiest way,” he returned bluntly, “I would turn back with you until we got within striking distance of the open.  But you have made me waste time as it is, and I promised Ben that I’d be in Gus Ingle’s caves with no time lost.  So I am going on.”

“But,” and all of her surging terror trembled in her rushing words, “I would die, I tell you....”

“And I tell you,” he snapped back at her, “that I don’t care a damn if you do.  Must I tell you twice that I am through with you?”

He set his foot to the stirrup.  Gloria, pride lost in panic, ran to him and grasped his arm, crying to him: 

“You mustn’t leave me this way!  It’s brutal ... it’s murder.”

“I gave my promise to Ben,” he said.  “You are not worth breaking a promise.”

“If you won’t take me back, then let me go with you.”

“Worthless and selfish and cowardly!  Useless and vain and brainless!  Good God! am I, a man full grown, to loiter on the trail with the like of you?  Let go!” He shook her hand off roughly and swung up into the saddle, sending his horse with a boot-heel in the flank down to the ford.  But Gloria screamed after him, and ran after him, down to the creek and through it, calling out: 

“Mark!  Mark!  For God’s sake don’t leave me.  I am afraid; I will die of fear.  Take me with you....”