Besides, her horse was mettlesome, thoroughly aroused, and he wanted a free rein and his own way. Helen tried that, only to lose the trail and to get sundry knocks from trees and branches. She could not hear the hound, nor Dale. The pines were small, close together, and tough. They were hard to bend. Helen hurt her hands, scratched her face, barked her knees. The horse formed a habit suddenly of deciding to go the way he liked instead of the way Helen guided him, and when he plunged between saplings too close to permit easy passage it was exceedingly hard on her. That did not make any difference to Helen. Once worked into a frenzy, her blood stayed at high pressure. She did not argue with herself about a need of desperate hurry. Even a blow on the head that nearly blinded her did not in the least retard her. The horse could hardly be held, and not at all in the few open places.
At last Helen reached another slope. Coming out upon canuon rim, she heard Dale's clear call, far down, and Bo's answering peal, high and piercing, with its note of exultant wildness. Helen also heard the bear and the hound fighting at the bottom of this canuon.
Here Helen again missed the tracks made by Dale and Bo. The descent looked impassable. She rode back along the rim, then forward. Finally she found where the ground had been plowed deep by hoofs, down over little banks. Helen's horse balked at these jumps. When she goaded him over them she went forward on his neck. It seemed like riding straight downhill. The mad spirit of that chase grew more stingingly keen to Helen as the obstacles grew. Then, once more the bay of the hound and the bawl of the bear made a demon of her horse. He snorted a shrill defiance. He plunged with fore hoofs in the air. He slid and broke a way down the steep, soft banks, through the thick brush and thick clusters of saplings, sending loose rocks and earth into avalanches ahead of him. He fell over one bank, but a thicket of aspens upheld him so that he rebounded and gained his feet. The sounds of fight ceased, but Dale's thrilling call floated up on the pine-scented air.
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.
"The chase was great," she said. "I did not know myself. You were right.""In how many ways did you find me right?" he asked.
"I think all -- but one," she replied, with a laugh and a shudder. "I'm near starved NOW -- I was so furious at Bo that I could have choked her. I faced that horrible brute. .
. . Oh, I know what it is to fear death! . . . I was lost twice on the ride -- absolutely lost. That's all."Bo found her tongue. "The last thing was for you to fall wildly in love, wasn't it?""According to Dale, I must add that to my new experiences of to-day -- before I can know real life," replied Helen, demurely.
The hunter turned away. "Let us go," he said, soberly.