not for the strain of benumbing fear that was gripping her.

Jake went around in front of the machine to crank it. For one moment
the strong acetylene light from one of the lamps fell full upon his
face. Helen recognized it. Her surmise as to his identity was not a
mistake.

A minute later the automobile was traveling at a high rate of speed
over the streets. Ten minutes later it passed the city limits and was
kicking the three inches of snow up along a country highway. On, on it
sped, one mile, two miles, on, on, until the probable distance Helen
was unable to conjecture, on, on, over smooth roads and rough roads,
up hill and down hill, into the mountains. Then suddenly "Bill," who
sat in the seat beside her, pulled a light-weight muffler from his
pocket and tied it over Helen's eyes, saying coarsely:

"Not that I'm afraid you'll do any mischief with those pretty eyes of
yours, but we may as well guard against accidents. You couldn't trace
this route again, anyway, could you?"

Helen did not attempt to answer with either a shake or a nod of her
head. She was disappointed at the act of her captor in blindfolding
her, for she had been watching their course as closely as possible in
order to photograph it upon her mind for future reference.

Jake was a good driver--that much must be said for him; and yet, after
they struck the mountain road the progress was much slower. From the
time when her eyes were bandaged, Helen's only means of determining
the character of the road over which they were traveling was the speed
or slowness of the automobile. Nor could she compute satisfactorily