The Yale expositor., 1908-02-28


ly upon him. Geronimo was out
again and that explained ii.
Sandy wouldn't have made the at
| tempt TO cross from one station to an
other had there not been vital neces-
sity for going, and throughout the
journey he had avoided the usual
ways of travel and sought those
which were obscure. Now and again
he ventured out into a main trail
where the horizons were SO clearly
marked that his chances for seeing
were as good as those of an enemy.
The finding of the woman was not
without weirdness. The manner of
her fall was not new to Sandy. He
had witnessed it before on painful oc-
casions, and the deserts ways were
known to him. Without a moments
hesitancy he unslung his canteen,
threw the reins over his pony's head
and sprang to the side of the prone
| figure.
That was merely the beginning
of it.
Back in the gully he made for her a
shelter of a pack cover and, this work
| done, retired to a distance where he
might search the surface of the in
! ferno for other signs of animation.
| This because, as he ruminated,
| There's shore somethin' wrong or
| there wouldn't be no white woman
afoot away out here so mile from no
where and Injuns everywhere about -
| But his glasses brought him no sign
of life. Everywhere was the silent
desert, writhing monotonously be-
meath the sun.
With her welfare his motive, as
night drew on, he took a chance on
fire" and kindled tiny blaze suffi-
cient to boil a kettle of water and
| prepare a lunch He hesitated as to
what was the proper method of wax
ing a sleeping woman. This at least
was a new experience. He stretched
forth hand and gently shook her,
but she, despite his tenderness,
started a scream that he brought to a
close by firmly clapping a big red
palm CTer her mouth.
SORRY, but it's ag'in the law, when
Geronimo's out, to make a noise he
drawled
The terror died from her eyes at
his apology, and she drank the tea in
silence. Starved as she was, the
savory strips of bacon and pilot bread
tasted like an epicurean dish, and
strength and hope came back. And
when the moon had crept over the
desert, she told him of her coming,
while he nodded his head in sym
pathy and interjected now and then a
question. But what had led her to
take such an admittedly dangerous
trip? Why must she reach Hla
camp? What had become of her es-
cort? Once more the terror of the
preceding day was upon her, and she
rocked to and fro and twisted her
fingers in anguish as she recited her
story. She had induced a packer to
| take her through; there had been an
| Indian onslaught from which she was
protected by previous flight and secre-
ton, and from her hiding she had wit
/
mutilation of her defender. Then
the savages, in ignorance of her hav-
| ing been a part of the expedition, and
barbarously exultant over their sue
cess, had gone.
Good Lord" Sandy said over and
over again. $50 they finally got poor
old Joe, Ell? Finally got poor old
joe"
And all my fault" came the fearful
assertion of the woman "He wouldn't
begged him to-"
Sandy assured her that lit was all
in the game" and that Joe would
probably have made the trip and
would have died just as gamely had
she not been with him. She sat in
silence and, when calm, reverted to
the cause of her expedition. 1t came
hesitatingly and with illusions some
of which were unintelligible to
Sandy.
There had been quarrel with
Bob, and Bob had lost his temper and
gone away leaving a broken-hearted
woman behind him. And now the
broken-hearted woman had learned
that Bob was to be in Hila camp,
and, hungry for reconciliation and
for his love, had faced the terrors of
the pitiless savages to reach him;
and in the facing had narrowly saved
her life thus far, and, as nearly as
Sandy could calculate, would perhaps
lose it in the end.
There was nothing to do, Sandy
meditated, but to make a BLUM at re-
assurance.
so 1t was that while the moon
shifted the shadows of the night
from side to side in its stately
passing, a woman slept the un-
disturbed sleep of security beneath
pack cover, while outside an
ungainly figure turned and tossed in
an agony of apprehension, forgetful
always of himself. but filled with pity
for her and for the trusting animals
who had been his servants, compan-
i -. Il