make it!"

The horses gallantly replied to call and spur. They rounded a curve
which made a sort of apse to the side of the valley, and presently they
were hid from their pursuers. Looking back from the thicket they saw the
plainsmen riding hard. All at once Tang-a-Dahit stopped.

"Give me the sorrel," said he. "Quick--dismount!" Cumner's Son did as
he was bid. Going a little to one side, the hillsman pushed through a
thick hedge of bushes, rolled away a rock, and disclosed an opening which
led down a steep and rough-hewn way to a great misty valley beneath,
where was never a bridle-path or causeway over the brawling streams and
boulders.

"I will ride on. The mare is done, but the sorrel can make the Bar of
Balmud."

Cumner's Son opened his mouth to question, but stopped, for the eyes of
the hillsman flared up, and Tang-a-Dahit said:

"My arm in blood has touched thy arm, and thou art in my hills and not in
thine own country. Thy life is my life, and thy good is my good. Speak
not, but act. By the high wall of the valley where no man bides there is
a path which leads to the Bar of Balmud; but leave it not, whether it go
up or down or be easy or hard. If thy feet be steady, thine eye true,
and thy heart strong, thou shalt come by the Bar of Balmud among my
people."

Then he caught the hand of Cumner's Son in his own and kissed him between
the eyes after the manner of a kinsman, and, urging him into the hole,