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
the time that passed during the rest of the trip.
But it ended at last. The machine stopped, Helen knew not where, and
she was assisted out by the two men, who led her, still blindfolded,
along a fairly smooth trail, up the side of a mountain or steep hill,
then along a fairly level stretch, until at last the prisoner knew
that she was passing under a canopy or roof of some sort, for there
was no snow under foot. Moreover their footfalls produced a sound,
somewhat of the nature of a soft resonant reverberation of a million
tiny echoes.
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