Page:Milady at Arms (1937).pdf/211

 Sally got slowly to her feet, clenched her teeth at the sudden dizziness which at once swooped upon her. "Aye," she said, breathing hard. "I will go on!" And, with the boy's help, she remounted her horse, grasping his mane when the dizziness threatened her once more. But gradually it wore off, for the brief rest had done her good.

Now, however, the sun began to descend in the western sky, dropping more swiftly as it neared the line of the Mountain ridge. Sally, glancing back, drew a tremulous breath at the glorious beauty of that sunset glow—great purple clouds were banking up, pierced with crimson and golden rays. Zenas, looking back at it, thought only with relief that it would grow cooler; but Sally caught, somehow, the meaning of that beauty, the heavenly promise of to-morrow; some poet ancestor must have given her understanding. She said nothing, though, and the two tired horses plodded along, past the occasional farm, past enemy-wrought ruins, through brief, refreshing bits of forest land.

But as they neared the Town by the River—indeed, long before they began to climb the last hill along whose ridge lies the present High Street, they commenced to meet people fleeing toward the safety of the Mountain. The refugees were mostly women and children and old men, some on foot, some riding horseback; but all burdened with household treasures which they would not leave to