Meantime the dawn grew slowly in the east but even when the mountains were huge and black against flaming colors of the horizon sky, there was no breaking of Marianne's gloom.

Now and then, hopelessly, she raised her field glasses and swept a segment of the compass.

But it was an automatic act, and her own forecast of failure obscured her vision, until at last, saddle-racked, trembling with weariness and grief, she stopped the mare.
She was beaten! She had turned the bay towards the home-trail when something subconsciously noted made her glance over her shoulder.

And she saw them! She needed no glass to bring them close.

Those six small forms moving over the distant hill could be nothing else, but if she doubted, all room for doubt was instantly removed, for in a moment a group of horsemen passed raggedly over the same crest.