Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1922-04-21
FoREWoRD

the dusty road to follow a Wagon
track across the desert, the speedom
eter had registered many miles. Hi
eyes searched the ground in front t.
see whether the track led up the brow
of the hill or dipped into the sandy
wash.
On the breeze there floated to him the
faint, insistent bawl of thirsty cattle
The car leaped forward again, climbed
the hill, and closed in upon a remuda
of horses watched by two wranglers
The chauffeur stopped the machine
and shouted a question at the nearest
rider, who swung his mount and can
tered up. He was a lean, tanned youth
in overalls, jumper, wide sombrero4
high-heeled boots, and shiny leather
chaps. A girl in the tonneau appraised
with quick, eager eyes this horseman
of the plains. Perhaps she found him
less picturesque than she had hoped.
He was not there for moving-picture
purposes. Nothing on horse or man
held its place for any reason except
utility.
"Where's the round upT" asked the
driver.
The coffee-brown youth gave a little
lift of his head to the right. He was
apparently a man of few words.
The car moved forward to the edge
of the mesa and dropped into the val
ley. The girl in the back seat gave
a little scream of delight. Here at last
was the West she had read about In
books and seen on the screen.
This was Cattleland's hour of hours.
The parada grounds were occupied by
two circles of cattle, each fenced by
eight or ten horsemen. The nearer
n was the beef herd, beyond this
and closer to the mouth of the canyon
from which they had all recently been
driven-was a mass Of closely packed
cows and calves.
Several men were busy branding and
marking the calves dragged to them
from the herd by the horsemen who
were roping the frightened little blat-
tiers.
With a movement of her wrist the
girl opened the door and stepped down
from the car.
A man sitting beside the chauffeur
turned in his seat. you'd better stay
where you are, honey" He had an
idea that this was not exactly the
scene a girl of seventeen ought to see
at close range.
II want to get the kinks out Of my
muscles, Dad" the girl called back.
"Ill not go far"
She walked along a ridge that ran
from the mesa into the valley like an
outstretched tongue. There was a
touch of unstudied jauntiness in the
way the tips of her golden curls es-
capped from beneath the little brown
toque she wore A young man guard
ing the beef herd watched her curl
Ously. Something In the poise of the
light, boyish figure struck a spark
from his Imagination.
AS she stood on the spit of the ridge,
a slim, light figure silhouetted against
the skyline, the young man guarding
the beef herd called something to her
that IA lost in the bawling of the
cattle. From the motion of his hand
she knew that he was telling her to
get back to the car. But the girl saw
no reason for obeying the orders of a
range-rider she had never seen before
and never expected to see again. No
body had ever told her that a rider is
fairly safe among the widest hill cat
tie, but a man on foot is liable to at
tack at any time when d herd is ex-
cited.
A shout of warning startled her.
Above the believing Of the herd she
heard another yell.
"Hi-yi-ya-a!"
A red-eyed steer, tail up, was crash
ing through the small brush toward
the branders. There was a wild u
ry for safety. The men dropped iron
and ropes and fled to their saddles. De-
fiected by pursuers, the animal turned.
BY chance it Numbered straight for
the girl on the sand spit.
She stood paralyzed for a moment.
Out of the gathering darkness a voice
came to her sharp and clear. Don't
novel" 1t rang so vibrant with crisp
command that the girl, poised for
flight, stood still and waited in white
terror while the huge steer numbered
toward her.
A COW pony, wheeled as on a dol
lar, jumped to an instant gallop. The
man riding it was the one who had
warned her back to the ear. Horse and
ladino pounded over the ground toward
her. Each stride brought them closer
to each other as they conyerged toward
the sand spit. 1t came to her with a
gust of panicky despair that they
would collide on the very spot where
she stood. Yet she did not run.
The rider, lifting his bronco forward
at full speed, won by a fraction of a
second. He guided in such a way as
to bring his horse between her and the
steer. Without Slackening his pace
in the least as he swept past, the man
stopped low, caught the girl beneath