The Irish standard., 1917-06-09
. II can't help it."

Don't talk to me Do as tell you !"
Numbered De Spain.
McAlpin bowed his head.
Ready" yelled Page, bucllling the
rifle holster in place. Still talking, and
with McAlpin glued to his elbow, De
Spain vaulted into the saddle, caught
the lines from Bulls hands, and
steadied the Lady as she sidestepped
nervously-McAlpin following close
and lodging the dancing hoofs as he
looked earnestly up to catch the last
word. De Spain touched the horse with
the lines. She leaped through the door,
way and he raised a backward hand
to those behind. Running outside the
door, they yelled chorus of cries
after the swift-moving horseman, and,
clustered in an excited group, watched
the Lady with a 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 to
what was going on about him.
No moving figure reflects the impas.
sive more than a horseman of the
mountains, on 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-laden
puffs that whirled and wrapped a cloud
of flakes about horse and rider in the
symbol of 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
q 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 tlurries passed, he found himself
In snowless pocket, as it were, of the
advancing storm. He hoped for moth
ing from the prospect ahead; but ev.
cry moment Of respite from the blind
Ing whrl 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
roughness 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 buffeted
him as he turned directly north. Only
1t intervals could he see any trace al
he 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 it's dangers. What
amazed him was that man like Duke
Morgan should be out in it. He found
u 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 it was an electric shock.
Throwing himself from his horse, he
knelt over it in the storm, Obvious for
IN instant Of everything but that this
tracery meant her presence, where he
now bent, hardly half an hour before.
He swung, after a moments keen scru-
tiny, into his saddle, with fresh re-
solve. Pressed by the rising fury of
the wind, the wayfarers 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 Spair'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, flattening the face of
the waters, rips the foam from the
frantic waves to drive it in wild, scud.
ding fragments across them