The Tupelo journal., 1909-10-29

the rain beating her burning face and
her horse leaping fearfully into the
wind.
No man could have kept the trail to
the pass that night. The horse took
it as II the path flashed in sunshine,
and swung into the familiar stride
that had carried her SO many times
over the 20 miles ahead Of them. The
storm driving into Dicksie's face
cooled her. Every moment she recol-
lected herself better, and before her
mind all the aspects of her venture
ranged themselves. She had set
herself to a race, and against her rode
the hardest rider in the mountains.
She had set herself to what few men
on the range would have dared and
what no other woman on the range
could do. A gust drove into her face.
They were already at the head of the
pass, and the horse, with level ground
underfoot, was falling into the long
reach; but the wind was colder.
Dicksie lowered her head and gave
Jim the rein. She realized how wet
she was; her feet and her knees were
wet. She had no protection but her
skirt, though the meanest rider or
all her countless acres would not have
braved a mile on such a night without
leather and fur. The great lapels of
her riding-jacket, reversed, were but
toned tight across her shoulders, and
the double fold of fur lay warm and
dry against her heart and lungs; but
her hands were cold, and her skirt
dragged leaden and cold from her
waist, and water soaked in upon her
chilled feet.
She became conscious of how fast
she was going. Instinct, made keen
by thousands of saddle miles, told
Dicksie of her terrific pace. She was
riding faster than she would have
dared go at MONDAY and without
thought or fear of accident. In spite
of the sliding and the plunging down
the long hill, the storm and the dark
ness brought no thought of fear for
herself; her only fear was for those
ahead. In supreme moments a horse,
like a man when human efforts be-
come superhuman, puts the lesser dan
gers out of reckoning, and the facul-
ties, set on a single purpose, though
strained to the breaking-point, never
break. Low in her saddle, Dicksie
tried to reckon how far they had come
and how much lay ahead. She could
feel her skirt stiffening about her
knees, and the rain beating at her
face was sharper; she knew the sleet
as it stung her cheeks, and knew what
next was coming-the snow.
There was no need to urge Jim. He
had the rein and Dicksie bent down to
speak to him, as she often spoke
when they were alone on the road,
when Jim, boiling, almost threw her.
Recovering instantly, she knew they
were no longer alone. She rose alert
in her seat. Her straining eyes could
see nothing. Was there a sound in
the wind? She held her breath to lis
ten, but before she could apprehend
Jim leaped violently ahead. Dicksie
screamed in an agony of terror. She
knew then that she had passed anoth-
err rider, and SO close she might have
touched him.
Fear froze her to the saddle; it lent
wings to her horse. The speed be-
came wild. Dicksie knit herself to her
dumb companion and a prayer choked
in her throat. She crouched lest a
bullet tear her from her horse; but
through the darkness no bullet came,
only the sleet, singing her face,
%stiffening her gloves, freezing her hair,
chilling her limbs, and weighing her
like lead on her struggling horse. She
knew not even Sinclair could overtake
her now-that no living man could lay