She clutched the bridle wildly, and urged the horse up with one last
effort; and just as they reached high ground she heard the wild cry ring
clear and distinct, "Hello! Hello!" and then something else. It sounded
like "Help!" but she could not tell. Was he trying to deceive her?
Pretending he would help her?
She flung herself into the saddle, giving the horse the signal to run;
and, as the animal obeyed and broke into his prairie run, she cast one
fearful glance behind her. The man was pursuing her at a gallop! He was
crossing the valley. There was a stream to cross, but he would cross it.
He had determination in every line of his flying figure. His voice was
pursuing her, too. It seemed as if the sound reached out and clutched her
heart, and tried to draw her back as she fled. And now her pursuers were
three: her enemy, the dead man upon the mountain, and the voice.