Denise, tired with so long a drive at a snail's pace, jumped from the
carriage.

"I will walk up this hill," she cried to the driver, who had never turned
in his seat or spoken a word to them.

"Then keep close to the carriage," he answered.

"Why?"

But he only indicated the macquis with his whip, and made no further
answer. Mademoiselle Brun said nothing, but presently, when the driver
paused to rest the horses, she descended from the carriage and walked
with Denise.

It was nearly midday when they at last reached the summit of the pass.
The heavy clouds, which had been long hanging over the mountains that
border the great plain of Biguglia, had rolled northward before a hot and
oppressive breeze, and the sun was now hidden. The carriage descended at
a rapid trot, and once the man got down and silently examined his brakes.
The road was a sort of cornice cut on the bare mountain side, and a
stumble or the slipping of a brake-block would inevitably send the
carriage rolling into the valley below.

Denise sat upright, and looked quickly, with eager movements of the head,
from side to side. Soon they reached the region of the upper pines, which
are small, and presently passed a piece of virgin forest--of those great
pines which have no like in Europe.

"Look!" said Denise, gazing up at the great trees with a sort of gasp of