The Mena weekly star., 1917-07-19


 the lines. She leaped through the door way and he raised a backward hand to those behind. Running outside the door, they yelled a chorus of cries after the swift-moving horseman, and. clustered in an excited group, watched the Lady with dozen great strides round the Calabasas trail and disap- pear with her rider into the whirling snow.
 She fell at once into an easy reach Ing step, and De Spain, busy with his reflections, hardly gave thought to what she was doing, and little more ts what was going on about him.
 No moving figure reflects the impas- sive more than a horseman of the mountains, on a long ride. Though never so swift-borne. the man, looking neither to the right nor to the left. moving evenly and statuelike against the sky, part of the wiry beast under him, presents the very picture of in- difference to the world around him. The great, swift wind spreading over the desert emptied on it snow-Iaden puffs that whirled and wrapped cloud of flakes about horse and rider in the symbol of a shroud. De Spain gave no heed to these skirmishing eddies. but he knew what was behind them. and for the wind. he only wished it might keep the snow in the air till he caught sight of Nan.
 The even reach of the horse brought him to the point where Nan had changed to the stage wagon. Without a break in her long stride Lady Jane took the hint of her swerving rider, put her nose into the wind, and headed north. De Spain, alive to the difficult ties of his venture. set his hat lower and bent forward to follow the wagon along the sand With the first of the white fiurries passed. he found himself in snowless pocket. as it were. of the advancing storm. He hoped for noth- ing from the prospect ahead; but ev- cry moment of respite from the blind ing whirl was gain, and with his eyes close on the trail that had carried Nan into danger he urged the Lady on.
 When the snow again closed down about him he calculated from the r0ughness of the country that he should be within mile of the road that Nan was trying to reach. from the gap to Sleepy Cat But the broken ground straight ahead would prevent her from driving directly to it. He knew she must hold to the right. and her curving track. now becoming diff cult to trail confirmed his conclusion
 A fresh drive of the wind huffeted him as he turned directly north Only ct intervals could he see any trace of the wagon wheels. The driving snow compelled him more than once to dis mount and search for the trail. Each time he lost it the effort to regain it was more prolonged. At times he was compelled to ride the desert in wide circles to find the tracks, and this cost time when minutes might mean life. But as long as he could he chung to the struggle to track her exactly. He saw almost where the storm had struck the two wayfarers. Neither, he knew, was insensible to its dangers. What amazed him was that man like Duke Morgan should be out in it. He found a spot where they had halted and, with a start that checked the beating of his heart, his eyes fell on her footprint not yet obliterated. beside the wagon track
 The sight of 1t was an electric shock. Throwing himself from his horse, he knelt over 1t In the storm, oblivious for an instant of everything but that this tracery meant her presence, where he now bent, hardly half an hour before. He swung, after moments keen scru- tiny. into his saddle, with fresh re- solve. Pressed by the rising fury Of the wind, the wayfare7s had become from this point, De Spain saw too plainly, hardly more than fugitives. Good ground to the left, where their hope of safety lay. had been over looked. Their tracks wandered on the open desert like those who, losing cour- age. lose their course in the confusion and fear of the impending peril.
 And with this increasing uncertainty in their direction vanished De Spain's last hopes of tracking them. The wind swept the desert now as a hurricane sweeps the open sea, snatching the fallen snow from the face of the earth as the sea-gale, fiattening the face Of the waters, rips the foam from the frantic waves to drive it in wild, scud- ding fragments across them.
 De Spain. urging his horse forward. unhuckled his rife holster, threw away the scabbard. and holding the weapon up in one hand fired shot after shot at measured intervals to attract the attention of the two he sought. He ex- hausted his rife ammunition without eliciting any answer. The wind drove with roar against which even rife report could hardly carry, and the snow swept down the sinks in a mad blast. Flakes torn by the fury of the gale were stiffened by the bitter wind into powdered ice that stung horse and rider. Casting away the useless car hine, and pressing his horse to the limit of her strength and endurance, the unyielding pursuer rode in great, coiling circles into the storm, to cut in, if possible, ahead of its victims. firing shot upon shot from his revolver, and putting his ear intently against the wind for the faint hope of an an-