Molly nodded her wind-whipped head and Racey snatched a wistful glance at the face he loved. Renunciation was in his eyes, for that second letter found caught in the bran sack's seam had changed things. He could not marry her. No, not now. And yet he loved her more than ever. She looked at him and smiled, and he smiled back--crookedly. "What's the matter?" she cried above the drum of the flying hoofs. "Nothing," he shouted back. He hoped she believed him. And bitter almonds were not as bitter as that hope. Then the wide expanse of the slide was before them. Now some slides have trails across their unstable backs, and some have not. Some are utterly unsafe to cross and others can be crossed with small risk. There was no trail across this particular slide, and it did not present a dangerous appearance. Neither does quicksand--till you step on it. Racey dismounted at the edge and started across, leading his horse. Twenty yards in the rear Molly Dale followed in like manner. At every step the footing gave a little. Once a rounded rock dislodged by the forefoot of Racey's horse bounded away down the long slope. The slither of a started rock behind him made him turn his head with a jerk. Molly's horse was down on its knees. "Easy, boy, easy," soothed Molly, coaxingly, keeping the bridle reins taut. The horse scrambled up and plunged forward, and almost overran Molly. She seized it short by the rein-chains. The horse pawed nervously and tried to rear. More rocks skidded downward under the shove of the hind hoofs. To Racey's imagination the whole slide seemed to tremble. Molly's face when the horse finally quieted and she turned around was pale and drawn. Which was not surprising. "It's all right, it's all right, it's all right," Racey found himself repeating with stiff lips. "Of course it is," nodded Molly, bravely. "There's no danger!" "No," said Racey. "Better not hold him so short. Don't wind that rein round yore wrist! S'pose he goes down you'd go, too. Here, you lemme take him. I'll manage him all right." "I'll manage him all right myself!" snapped Molly, up in arms immediately at this slur upon her horsemanship. "You go on." Racey turned and went on. It was not more than a hundred yards to where the grass grew on firm ground. Racey and his horse reached solid earth without incident. Then--a scramble, a scraping, and a clattering followed in a breath by the indescribable sound of a mass of rocks in motion. Racey had wasted no time in looking to see what had happened. He knew. At the first sound of disaster he had snapped his rope strap, freed his rope and taken two half hitches round the horn. Then he leaped toward the slide, shaking out his rope as he went. Twenty feet out and below him Molly Dale and her struggling horse were sliding downward. If the horse had remained quiet--but the horse was not remaining quiet and Molly's wrist was tangled in the bridle reins.