Before Helen realized it she was at the foot of the slope, in a narrow canuon-bed, full of rocks and trees, with a soft roar of running water filling her ears. Tracks were everywhere, and when she came to the first open place she saw where the grizzly had plunged off a sandy bar into the water. Here he had fought Pedro. Signs of that battle were easy to read. Helen saw where his huge tracks, still wet, led up the opposite sandy bank.
Then down-stream Helen did some more reckless and splendid riding. On level ground the horse was great. Once he leaped clear across the brook. Every plunge, every turn Helen expected to come upon Dale and Bo facing the bear. The canuon narrowed, the stream-bed deepened. She had to slow down to get through the trees and rocks. Quite unexpectedly she rode pell-mell upon Dale and Bo and the panting Pedro. Her horse plunged to a halt, answering the shrill neighs of the other horses.
Dale gazed in admiring amazement at Helen.
"Say, did you meet the bear again?" he queried, blankly.
"No. Didn't--you--kill him?" panted Helen, slowly sagging in her saddle.
"He got away in the rocks. Rough country down here."
Helen slid off her horse and fell with a little panting cry of relief. She saw that she was bloody, dirty, disheveled, and wringing wet with perspiration. Her riding habit was torn into tatters. Every muscle seemed to burn and sting, and all her bones seemed broken. But it was worth all this to meet Dale's penetrating glance, to see Bo's utter, incredulous astonishment.
"Nell--Rayner!" gasped Bo.
"If--my horse 'd been--any good--in the woods," panted Helen, "I'd not lost--so much time--riding down this mountain. And I'd caught you--beat you."
"Girl, did you RIDE down this last slope?" queried Dale.
"I sure did," replied Helen, smiling.
"We walked every step of the way, and was lucky to get down at that," responded Dale, gravely. "No horse should have been ridden down there. Why, he must have slid down."
"We slid--yes. But I stayed on him."
Bo's incredulity changed to wondering, speechless admiration. And Dale's rare smile changed his gravity.
"I'm sorry. It was rash of me. I thought you'd go back.... But all's well that ends well.... Helen, did you wake up to-day?"
She dropped her eyes, not caring to meet the questioning gaze upon her.
"Maybe--a little," she replied, and she covered her face with her hands. Remembrance of his questions--of his assurance that she did not know the real meaning of life--of her stubborn antagonism--made her somehow ashamed. But it was not for long.