The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1899-03-04

charge? Go with me tonight. I can
guide you to the border and they dare
not cross the line"
Her black eyes blazed, swapping IN
the sunlight, and her whole being YVES
eager with the tremulous earnestness
of woman eXacting a material proof OF
love. TO this molten little savage with
the sunshine dancing in her veins the
crime counted for nothing Il it proved
his love-
There are moments when man is
frightened by the very abandon of wU-
mans affection, and then he will pause
to his own peril Cronin was unpro.
pared for this crisis in affection, AMI
wanted to gain time. wait five days"
he said, Il will come FOR you then" lie
was calculating the consequences Of
desertion.
Marta's face fell. her lips moved IN
that dry way as when one swallows
nothing and Cronin saw that he had
failed. As he turned to enter the com
pound he watched her retreating figure,
She was singing Il familiar song, AMI
today it had an open meaning.
The lark flies south when the leaves are
scar
The lark flies north when the reappear
Like a love that tlits from year to year
The desert dove is constant
This winter ana spring and early fall
Thro' vibrant heat i hear her call,
\ love forever and all in ali
The desert dove is constant.
Dalton had no sympathy for desert
ers. He disliked the duty because h"
dislked the role of detective. being a
soldier and he and Cronin had been
comrades.
First he had to visit Various and
pick up the trail, for jenkins on herd
guard had seen Cronin near the river
and later had met a white woman near
the facal From Narou he learned
things which made the work doubly
disagreeable.
a strange American woman had spent
two nights there. She had come to
visit Cronin, and had that morning
gone afOot across the desert in the
direction of the stage station. CrOnin
had told Varous daughter, Marta, tina.
the woman was his sister. Marta was
up the river.
The trail. then was double There
was evident connection between the
woman and the deserter. Her resting
place for the night was the rendezvous.
He would find Sergeant Cronin ther"
But why had Cronm waited? He mad
been absent two days. Possibly to get
ponies for the flight
Dalton reasoned rapidly as he can't
cred toward the acequia along which
the woman had walked before entering
the mesa. In the path near the stream
he found her tiny tracks For some
minutes his practiced eye followed
them mechanically, his horse moving
at a trot. At the corner of the barley
field they left the acequia and led up
sandy arroyo, where the sharp punch
of the heels made them very plain.
The strangeness of the tracks set
the trailer thinking. They were made
by shapely boots and suggested bOud-
oirs Dalton had never seen, but had
read about in novels and visited i'm
dreams. When a mans life is so rough
that it furnishes no acquaintance with
woman, his Imagination holds for her
retinements as respect that is almost
worship.
Dalton fancied there was still
breathing from the dainty shoe-print
an elusive odOr, which even human
hound could follow in the darkness.
Here in the desert the tracks seemed
strangely out of place, for it was the
first time his experience had encount-
cred them in unfrequented arroyas.
Then the idea that he was a hound.
bloodhound, yes a cur, struck in, and
he was very unhappy.
10
prints that We're a feminine protest to
manliness and courage. but soon they
We're pressing harder on his brain than
the feet that made them had pressed
upon the sand. and the idea that he
was coward controlled him.
Here he halted his horse intending
to turn back, and gazed at the con-
tinuing foot-marks, which pointed
plainly as a signboard to a duty that
lay across the heated mesa, Then he
thought of the other clue. He would
| cut Cronin's trail and follow it. 1t
was two days older, to be sure, and
would lead to the woman just the
same, but he would be following a man
and would feel like a man. He wheeled
his horse and clambered up a cactus
headland that jutted into the arroyo.
On the mesa he struck fresh pony
| tracks leading in the direction of the
| trail he had abandoned. Cronin then
had gotten a pony. As he cantered
over the new trail Dalton breathed
! like a freed man.
The pursued had taken a course
whose general direction was that OF
! the arroyo, but distant enough to
avoid ravines putting into it. A mile
| further and the new trail turned
sharply into the valley. Here the
sharp, cup tracks of an unshod broncho
had mutilated the footprints of a wo-
| mans well-shod feet. The pony tracks
| We're very fresh. He might capture
! Cronin and avoid the woman which
was warfare to his liking. He spurred
Satan to full gallop over the double
trail. Two miles further on, under q
heavy clump of pale verde and chap.
paral, were a number OF tracks in the
| sand; after this the foot tracks ceased
and the pony tracks alone continued.
II am too late to catch Cronin alone
but, weighted double, I'll oVertake his
broncho soon," thought Dalton, as ht
made careless reconnaissance of where
they had rested in the shade upon the
sand. Then he rode onward, following
trail whose end was miles away
over a range OF mountains and fal
into thirsty plain.
"Oha Jorge! Jorge"
"How you frightened me; I heard
your horse knocking powders off tn,
divide and thought a whole cavalry
detachment had come to fetch me-"
Marta laughed.
Why did you not wait for me? Dom
4 IaI In