The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1916-05-11
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Alan did not draw rein until he
reached the top of the bluff dividing
the valley from West lake. Then for
a moment he sat and stared down the
long slope. There was a smell of mOis-
ture In the air. The valley, the whole
world was expecting, waiting for rain,
and even as he stared the rain came in
a fine, veillike mist that steadied the
tones of earth and sky to one even
shade Of endless gray. Out of the gray
came the click of iron on pebble. Alan
recognized the quick, springy tread
of a climbing horse. He turned and
faced Glen. He felt the slow color
rising in his cheeks and his hands
trembled.
They did not smile at each other:
they even forgot to say good morning.
Alan licked his thin lips They were
as dry as ever they had been with
fever. "Where's your hat?" he asked.
A flicker of amusement showed in
Clem's eyes. She was quite calm and
she could see that Alan was not that
he was biting his tongue at the feeble
words he had saddled on a heavy mo-
ment. Hats are for sunny days." she
said. 81 like rain on my head. Have
you anything special to do? Don't let
me bother you"
mo-" stammered Alan, nothing
that can't be put Off"
DO you remember" Glen went on,
years ago asked you to take me
for ride, and you said not then but
sometime? I've never had my ride
with you. | want it now"
Her eyes were fixed on his and held
him. II am ready" he said through
dry lips.
She turned her horse and he fol-
lowed. They rode In silence at walk
and then at a trot. Glen turned into
a wOod-road. Her horse broke into a
gallOp. She flicked him with her whip
and his gathered ' limbs suddenly
stretched out for free run. The 60
ing was soft Alan had fallen behind
ClOts Of messy loan struck him in the
face Swaying branches showered
drops of water on him. He lost his
hat. Then his lips tightened, his eyes
flashed and he began to ride. He was
himself again.
He urged his horse forward, but he
could not get on even terms; Clem held
| the middle of the narrow track. Sud
| denly they burst into the broad Low
road. With a terrific clatter of flying
stones and slipping, scrambling hOOfs,
they made the turn. Alan rode at last
on Clem's quarter. "Clem," he cried.
stop! It isn't fair to the horses"
But Clem only laughed. Her slim
body swayed to the bends of the road
her shoulders were braced; she leaned
slightly back, steadying her horse with
a taut rein. Alan tried to draw even,
but every time he urged his horse into
a squirt Clem's spurted too. Alan grew
angry. He watched Clem's whip. but
1t never moved. He settled into the
saddle and rode blindly. His horse
must catch up or he would kill him.
He was gaining. A moment more at
the same pace and he could reach
Clem's reins below her horses neck.
Then Glenn swerved again into half
hidden wood-roqd and Alan's horse
plunged through the brush, broke out.
and followed, poor second.
Alan's face and hands were badly
scratched, but he rode on doggedly. It
never occurred to him to give up the
chase. In the end he would catch up:
he knew that, but what puzzled him
was what he should do to Clem when
he caught her. Anyone else, man or
woman, he would give taste Of their
own riding whip for their own good,
but not Glen. Alan suddenly knew
that there was something In Clem
that a man could not break.
The wood-road made a gradual
ascent that the willing horses took at