The Pleasantville press. (Pleasantville, N.J.) 1912-1929, 1923-06-20
CHAPTER Xi-Continued.

>
i've lone the service. Only don't
mention pay to me. But there's one
thing I'D like you to know, M | find
it hard to say. It's prompted, maybe,
by what l know you think of me and
what | imagine your family and
friends would think if they knew. It's
not prompted by pride or conceit. And
it's this: Such a woman as you should
never have come to this Godforsaken
country niles she meant to forget
herself. But as you did come, and as
o were dragged away by those dew
lis, / want you to know that all your
wealth and position and influence-all
that power behind you-would never
have saved you from hell tonight. Only
such a mar as Nels or Nick Steele or
j could have done that"
Madeline Hammond felt the great
leveling force of the truth. Whatever
the difference between her and Stew
art, or whatever the imagined differ
ence set up by false standards of class
and culture, the truth was that here
on this wild mountain-side she wa
VIiy d nOlndA anu n0 was SlluplT d
man. 1t was a man that she needed,
and if her choice could have been con-
sidered in this extremity it would
have fallen upon him who had just
faced her in quiet, bitter speech. Here
was food for thought.
81 reckon we'd better start now" he
said, and drew the horse to a large
rock. Come"
Madeline's will greatly exceeded her
strength. For the first time she ac-
knowledged TO herself that she had
been hurt. Still, she did not feel much
pain except when she moved her shout
der. Once in the saddle, swhere Stew
art lifted her, she dropped weakly.
The way was rough; every step the
horse took hurt her; and the slope of
the ground threw her forward on the
pommel.
Here is the TRAIL" said Stewart, at
length.
Not far from that point Madeline
swayed, and but for Stewards support
would have fallen from the saddle. She
heard him swear under his breath.
Here. this won't do" he said.
Throw your leg over the pommel.
The other one-there."
Then, mounting, he slipped behind
her and lifted and turned her. and
then held her with his left arm so
hat she lay across the saddle and his
knees. her head against his shoulder.
As the horse started into a rapid
walk Madeline gradually lost all pain
II discomfort when she relaxed her
muscles. Presently she let herself 90
and lay Inert, greatly 10 her relief.
For a little while she seemed TO he
halt drunk with the gentle swaying of
II hammock. Her mind became at once
dreamy and active, as if it thought
fully recorded the slow. soft impress
sions pouring in from all her senses
She could not believe the evidence of
the days happenings. Would any of
her people, her friends, ever believe
it7 Could she tell it? She remem-
bered the ghoulish visages of those
starved rebels, and marveled at her
blessed fortune in escaping them
Stewards arrival in the glade. the
courage with which he had faced the
outlawed men, grew as real to her now
as the iron arm that clasped her. Had
it been an instinct which had lmpor-
tuned her to save this man when he
lay i'll and hopeless in the shack at
Chiricahua? In helping him had she
hedged round her forces that had lust
operated to save her life, or if not
that, more than life was to her? She
believed so.
A heavy languor, like a blanket, be-
gan to steal upon her. She wavered
and drifted. With the last half-con-
scious sense of n muflled throb at her
ear. a something %intangibly sweet,
deep-toned. and strange, like a distant
calling bell, she fell asleep with her
head on Stewards breast.
CHAPTER XII