Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-11-29

1OufneV,
stumbled and fell. She was larger and heavier
than the boy, and hers had been the weaker
steed Her bronco's matchless endurance had
at last been exhausted by the terrible struggle
their journey. He lay dying where he fell.
and nothing she could do could get him up
again. He was down and out, done for the
boy had stopped, of course when her horse
had fallen He had dismounted and helped
her to rise. He had assisted her vain efforts
to get her own played out horse its feet.
The two stood staring at each other in
dismav.
You must take my horse,' said the boy
at last.
The woman nodded. With his assistance
she climbed slowly and painfully into the
saddle, took the reins from the boy, and
started on. Her companion caught hold of
the stirrup leather and staggered forward by
her side. The going was now infinitely harder
tor the remaining horse: The woman 1mme,
diately realized that with this almost dead
weight dragging at the stirrup leather, the re-
manning bronco would soon be exhausted. The
cold had grown more intense. She was numb
and dumb with it; and what must be the con-
dition of the reeling and staggering by
her side, sustained only by his convulsive
grasp on the stirrup leather, she could well
imagine. She meant to play fair with him
And so for long time the trio plodded on IN
this way, the woman nerving herself to
frghtful action as best she could. She hest
tated to do it. She reluctant
But no horse that ever lived could stand
such strain. She knew that it would be a
matter of minutes when the animal she
rode would also fall and lie when he had fallen
like his dead brother back on the trail, and
then she and the boy would inevitably perish.
She looked down at him as he reeled and
plunged by her side. She could not see the
boys face. His head was bent over. He too
was almost at the limit of his endurance. He
covered with ice and snow, ghostly sort
of wrath lurching on at her feet!
WELL it was his life or hers! 1t had to be!
w The hand that pulled the trigger was
willing to do what was to be done again This
time it needed no weapon. Her horse was 60
ing very slowly. She reached over, and before
the boy realized what was happening she
caught his hand, tore his fingers from the
saddle strap, and thrust him violently back
ward. Unprepared. unsuspectlng, half-dazed,
he could offer no adequate resistance. He was
a slender lad not yet having reached his full
growth for all his nineteen years. He reeled
and fell supine She struck the horse heavily
with whip that hung from the saddle bow,
and the animal plunged forward wildly To
put as much distance between herself and the
boy, she urged him on. She knew that she
safe unless he should try to shoot her;
for he was too weak and too exhausted to
catch her. \ few more steps would put her
out of sight too, though there were already
indications of breaking day to her left; so she
mercilessly urged forward the dying horse.
slant action by her conduct After the
first moment of surprise he knew at once that
she was deliberately abandoning him to die in
the snow A hot rush of blood, in spite of the
cold swept over him. He thrust his hand
within his coat and dragged out weapon. He
raised it and trained 1T on the wOmans back
and for the moment his hand did not tremble.
Then there before him that other CORY
figure. Though he had lived some months on
the wild frontier and had seen more than one
man killed there he had never been connected
with murder before, even as an accessory after
the fact. and the horror of it still upon
him. He lowered the pistol though he could
easily have shot her dead. AS he did the
figures of horse and woman disappeared from
his vision in the snow. thicker now and falling
more steadily and softly. He thrust the pistol
back into its holster, fastened his coat again
and by a superhuman effort to his feet.
Such treachery on the part of woman
would have killed some men; not so this boy
In that moment he became a He saw
himself fool: he determined that he would
not see himself coward. Cenching his fists
and summoning his strength, he followed
southwark afoot in the woman's wake. What
his idea was,-whether to pursue her, to over
take her, to reproach her, maybe to kill her;
whether it simply the heroic resolve
that he would not be beaten down, that if he
died he would die not supinely but exerting
his manhood to the last limit of its power,-he
ba oil Probably,