The Winslow mail., 1923-07-06

and bruised, she heard louder, closer
approach of the invaders of her home.
Fear, wrath, and impotence contested
for supremacy over her and drove her
to desperation. She was alone here,
and she must rely on herself. And as
she strained every muscle to move
that obstinate door and heard the
quick, harsh voices Of men and the
sounds Of a hurried search she sud-
denly felt sure that they were hunting
for her. She knew it. She did not
wonder at. it. But she wondered If
she were really Madeline HaMfmond,
and If it were possible that brutal men
would harm her. Then the tramping
of heavy feet on the floor Of the ad-
joining room lent her the last strength
Of fear. Pushing with hands and
shoulders, she moved the door far
enough to permit the passage of her
body. Then she stepped upon the
sill and slipped through the aperture
She saw no one. Lightly she jumped
down and ran in among the bushes.
But these did not afford her the cover
she needed. She stole from one clump
to another, finding too late that she
had chosen with poor judgment. The
position of the bushes had drawn her
closer to the front Of the house rather
than away from it, and just before her
were horses, and beyond a group of
excited men. With her heart in her
throat Madeline crouched down.
A shrill yell, followed by running and
mounting guerrillas, reused her hope.
They had sighted the cowboys and were
in flight. Rapid humping of boots on
the porch told Of men hurrying from
the house. Several horses dashed past
her, not ten feet distant. One rider
saw her, for he turned to shout back.
This drove Madeline into a panic
Hardly knowing what she did, she be-
gan to run away from the house. Her
feet seemed leaden. She felt the same
horrible poWerlessness that sometimes
came over her when she dreamed of
being pursued. Horses with shouting
riders streaked past her In the shrub
berry. There was thunder of hoofs
behind her. She turned aside, but the
laundering grew nearer. She was be-
ing run down.
AS Madeline shut her eyes and, stag
gering, was about to fall, apparently
right under pounding hoofs, a rude,
powerful hand clapped round her
waist, clutched deep and strong, and
swung her aloft. She felt a heavy
blow when the shoulder Of the horse
struck her, and then a wrenching Of
her arm as she was dragged up. A
sudden blighting pain made sight and
feeling fade from her.
But she did not become unconscious
to the extent that she lost the sense
Of being rapidly borne away. She
seemed to hold that for a long time.
When her faculties began to return the
motion Of the horse was no longer vio-
lent. For a few moments she could
not determine her position. Apparently
she was upside down. Then she saw
that she was facing the ground, and
must be lying across a saddle with
her head hanging down. She could
not move a hand she could not tell
where her hands were. Then she felt
the touch of soft leather. She saw a
high-topped Mexican boot, wearing
huge silver spur, and the reeking flank
and legs of horse, and a dusty, mar
row trail. Soon a kind Of red darkness
yelled her eyes, her head swan, and
she felt motion and pain only duly.
After what seemed thousand weary
hours some one lifted her from the
horse and laid her upon the ground.
where, gradually, as the blood left her
head and she could see, she began to
get the right relation of things.
She lay in sparse grove of frs, and
the shadows told of late afternoon.
She smelled wood smoke, and she
heard the sharp crunch Of horses teeth
nipping grass. Voices caused her to
turn her face. A group of men stood
and sat round a campfire eating like
wolves. The looks of her captors made
Madeline close her eyes, and the fasci-
nation, the fear they reused in her
made her open them again. Mostly
they were thin-bodied, thin-bearded
Mexicans, black and haggard and
starved. Whatever they might be, they
surely were hunger-stricken and
sQualid. Not one had a coat A few
had scarfs. Some wore belts in which
were scattered cartridges. Only few
had guns, and these were Of diverse
patterns. Madeline could see no
packs, no blankets, and only few
cooking utensils, all battered and
blackened. Her eyes fastened upon
men she believed were white men; but
1t was from their features and not their
color that she judged. Once she had
seen a band Of nomad robbers in the
Sahara, and somehow was reminded
of them by this motley outlaw troop.
They divided attention between the
satisfying of ravenous appetites and a
vigilant watching down the forest
aisles. They expected some one, Made
line thought, and, manifestly, if it were
pursuing posse, they did not show
could not