King led the way unfalteringly.  Time and again she saw no hint of a trail underfoot or ahead; they broke through brush or made a difficult way through a thicket of alders or willows and invariably came again upon a trail.  It was evident that the man thought only of his journey’s end and was hastening; hence he took all the short cuts which he knew.  In one of these pathless places, where the scrub-trees and tangle of brush were above her head, where it seemed that she must smother, she lost all sight of him.  Her horse came to a dead halt.  She listened and could not hear the hoofs of his horse.  Again panic mastered her, and she cried out wildly.  But just ahead was a mad mountain stream filling the gorge with its thunder.  She knew that King could not hear her; she felt the desperate certainty that he would not heed could he hear.  Then she struck her horse frantically with her bare hands, and pounded him with her heels, longing for the sight of King as one athirst in the bad lands longs for water.  The horse snorted, and whirling and plunging went ripping through the bushes which whipped at her and tore the skin of hands and face.  But in three minutes he brought her into the open and into full sight of King, riding up a gentle slope through big red-boled cedars.  When her fear died, as it did swiftly after the way of fear, it left not the old, hot anger, but a new elemental emotion—­cold hatred.

Thus upon their second morning the honeymoon entered upon its second phase.  Every moment brought some new discomfort to her; the saddle hurt her:  her clothes were torn, her tender skin bruised and scratched; pains came stabbingly with early fatigue As for King, he had come abruptly to look down upon her as utterly despicable; being a man of high honour he convicted her out of hand as one without honour; despising her, he despised himself for having linked his life in ever so little with hers.  But yesterday he had knelt to her humbly in his innermost heart of hearts; now he sought to shut his mind against her quite as definitely as he turned his back on her.

What sombre, misshapen edifice they should build upon these corner-stones of hate and contempt was a matter into which no conjecture could enter even slightly had their compelling environment been different.  In the city they would have turned their backs and walked away from each other.  But two storm-driven men upon a raft don’t separate until land is sighted.  Gloria, at least, was in her present plight comparable to a shipwrecked sailor of little skill and less resource.  Hence, what was to be, remained to be seen.