Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1879-09-28
A WESTERN HEROINE.
Rose Maguire's Midnight Ride.

we were on the upgrade, and six
horses were slowly pulling their best.
We were in forest of mountains, each
spiked over its top by a row of pines,
standing straight and stiff against the
horizon. I could see the road far ahead,
winding round the ascent like a girdline
ribbon, and bending over the side, while
reslnous, piney fragrance enchanted nv
nostrlls. [ looked into the depths of a
pine forest, with its waste of underbrush
sprlnging round the roots, and a marvel
of cool, dull green underlying it all.
Exceptionally fine weather it was, the
stage-driver said, for this time of the
year. Twas out on the box, you will un-
derstand, because it made me sick to ride
inside, and for this once was glad of it,
Perched so far above ground, had felt
as though borne in air. and should have
liked to snatch the reins from his hands
and set the horses into mad gallop UP
hill and down. The mountain air was
as heady as champagne, and the chang
ing view spread before me dazzled nv
eyes. a hundred times called to Tom.
yawning and browsing his time inside, to
look from his window at the hooks and
glens among the windings of the brawl-
ing stream, or the sudden plunges we
made into ravines, or the grand rise Of
mountain above mountain revealed to US
by our own elevation.
Suddenly, as we were crawling on the
upgrade, round projection ahead of us
appeared woman on horseback. Our
driver frightened his slack reins, and gave
a low, peculiar whistle to his horses.
Six pair of ears Strengthened briskly, the
tagging hoofs picked themselves up and
every horse began to pull, so that we tell
into smart t1ot. The horsewoman
ahead shook her bride, and, without
warning, her pony stretched itself into a
sharp gallop, and as its flying feet touch
ed the ground, she rose in the saddle like
a bird, with a light, easy, graceful motion
of the shouldes, and careless poIse of
the head. So we passed one another in
fine style, and as she dashed along the
road she was quite an excitement to me.
Her black eyes were dark and prankish.
her black hair hung in a braid down her
back, and was tied with an end of red
ribbon; her cheeks and lips were rosy as
the sunset that called tho blush to the
mountain, and she had a saucy cap on
her head. She had Witching, catch-me-
| f-you-dare face, when you took it all to
gether, and she flashed up at the box
seat recognition as she passed.
Tom poked his lazy head out of the
window to look after her. "a decentish-
looking girl, that; mettlesome, should
say" he called up to me. "Just call nv
attention In tine when another such
| view heaves into sight, will yeu2"
saw the corners of the drivers mouth
jerking in half smile. He clicked to-
his horses, hemmed bit, arranged his
coat-collar, then fixed his gaze between
the ears eff the off wheeler, and he said.
| ssThat's Rosie Magui1e!"
''lndeed!'' said, my eyebrows twist
ing into an Interrogation point.
"Yes'm, Tim Maguire's daughter oAer
into the town, and as soon as we get up
this mount and strike the Bunker grade
Well be there in less than an hour.''
That is the way he began to tell me
the story. which, as near as can shall
tell to you. I had the shifting scene be-
fore me, though the spot in which the
plot was laid and played and the chief
actors were in my mind.
Rose Mcguire came into these parts
alone with her father when he opened the
'hotel." Being without mother, she
had no bringing up, and early took to
horses. From little girl up, she had
never minded whether horse was tame
or wild one. Put her once in the sad
die, and she stuck to it like a cat She
knew her way among the hills better
than she knew her way along the lines
OF book, and day sitter day she was out
among them, riding none knew whittier,
till her fancy called her home. Had abe