But Ernest apparently had difficulty with his broncho so that he was found at the rear of the line with Kathleen immediately in front of him. The cow trail led out of the coolee over a shoulder of a wooded hill and down into a ravine whose sharp sides made the riding even to those experienced westerners a matter of difficulty, in places of danger. At the bottom of the ravine a little torrent boiled and foamed on its way to join Wolf Willow Creek a mile further down. After an hour's struggle with the brushwood and fallen timber the party was halted by a huge spruce tree which had fallen fair across the trail. “Where now, boss?” cried Larry to Nora, who from her superior knowledge of the ground, had been leading the party. “This is something new,” answered Nora. “I think we should cross the water and try to break through to the left around the top of the tree.” “No,” said Ernest, “the right looks better to me, around the root here. It is something of a scramble, but it is better than the left.” “Come along,” said Nora; “this is the way of the trail, and we can get through the brush of that top all right.” “I am for the right. Come, let's try it, Kathleen, shall we?” said Ernest. Kathleen hesitated. “Come, we'll beat them out. Right turn, march.” The commanding tones of the young man appeared to dominate the girl. She set her horse to the steep hillside, following her companion to the right. A steep climb through a tangle of underbrush brought them into the cleared woods, where they paused to breathe their animals. “Ah, that was splendidly done. You are a good horsewoman,” said Ernest. “If you only had a horse as good as mine we could go anywhere together. You deserve a better horse, too. I wonder if you know how fine you look.” “My dear old Kitty is not very quick nor very beautiful, but she is very faithful, and so kind,” said Kathleen, reaching down and patting her mare on the nose. “Shall we go on?” “We need not hurry,” replied her companion. “We have beaten them already. I love the woods here, and, Kathleen, I have not seen you for ever so long, for nine long months. And since your return fifteen days ago I have seen you only once, only once.” “I am sorry,” said Kathleen, hurrying her horse a little. “We happened to be out every time you called.” “Other people have seen you,” continued the young man with a note almost of anger in his voice. “Everywhere I hear of you, but I cannot see you. At church--I go to church to see you--but that, that Englishman is with you. He walks with you, you go in his motor car, he is in your house every day.” “What are you talking about, Ernest? Mr. Romayne? Of course. Mother likes him so much, and we all like him.” “Your mother, ah!” Ernest's tone was full of scorn. “Yes, my mother--we all like him, and his sister, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, you know. They are our nearest neighbours, and we have come to know them very well. Shall we go on?” “Kathleen, listen to me,” said the young man.