The Pleasantville press. (Pleasantville, N.J.) 1912-1929, 1923-06-06
Knew WHAT? asked Madeline.

ming Don Carlos. Get down, Madeline
hurry p
Madeline dismOuuted.
Give me your white sweater. Take
it off And that white hat, Hurry.
Madeline She had Invested herself
of sombrero and jacket. which she
held out to Madeline. 4Heah. Take
these. Give me yours. Then get up
on the black. III ride Majesty. Rustic
now, Madeline. This IS no time TO
talk"
But, dear, why-why do you
want? All You're going to make
the vaqueros take you for me-
you guessed it. VIII you
81 shall not allow you to do any
thing of the kind" returned Madeline.
1t was then that Florence's face.
changing, took on the hard, stern
sharpness so typical Of ii cowboys.
Madeline had caught glimpses of that
expression in Alfred's face, and on
Stewards when he was silent, and on
Stillwell's always. 1t was a look of
iron and fire-unchangeable, u%nquench-
able will. There was even much of
violence in the swift action whereby
Florence compelled Madeline to the
change Of apparel.
It'd been my idea, anyhow, if
Stewart hadn't told me to do il" said
Florence, her words as swift as her
hands. Don Carlos is after you-you,
Miss Madeline Hammond! He wouldn't
ambush a trail for any one else. He
wants you for some reason. So Gene
thought, and now 1 believe him. Well,
We'll know for sure in five minutes.
You ride the black; I'll ride Majesty.
Well slip around through the brush.
out of sight and sound, till we can
break out into the Open. Then we'll
split. You make straight for the ranch.
I'll cut loose for the valley where Gene
said positively the cowboys were with
the cattle. The vaqueros will take
me for you. They'll chase me. They'll
never get anywhere neal NE. And
you'll be on a fast horse. He can take
you home ahead of any yaqueros. But
you won't be chased. I'm stalking all
on that. Trust me, Madeline. If 1t
were only my calculation. maybe I'd
It's because l remember Stewart.
That cowboy knows things. Come,
this heah's the safest and smartest
way to fool Don Carlos Madeline
felt herself more forced than per
suaded into a~cquiescence. She mounted
the black and took up the bride. In
another moment she was guiding her
horse off the trail in the tracks of
Majesty. Florence led off at right an
giles, threading n slow passage through
the mesquite. She favored sandy
patches and open aisles between the
trees and was careful not to break Il
branch. Often she stopped to listen.
This detour of perhaps half a mile
brought Madeline to where she could
see open ground, the ranch-house only
a few miles off, and the cattle dotting
the valley. She had not lost her cour-
age, but it was certain that these IA
miliar sights somewhat lightened the
pressure upon her breast. Excitement
gripped her. The shrill whistle Of a
horse made both the black and Majesty
jump. Florence ~quickened the gait
down the slope. Soon Madeline saw
the edge of the brush. the gray-bseached
grass and level ground.
Florence waited at the opening be-
tween the low trees. She gave Made
line a quick, bright glance.
"All over but the ride! That1I sure
be easy. Bolt now and keep your
nerve."
When Florence wheeled the fiery
seemed SUDDENLY to grow lax and help
less. The big horse leaped into thun-
dering action. Florence's hair streamed
on the wind and shone gold in the sun
light. Then hoarse shouts unchanged
Madeline's power of movement, and
she spurred the black into the open.
He wanted to run and he was swift.
Madeline loosened the reins-laid them
loose upon his neck. His action was
strange to her. He was hard to ride.
But he was fast, and she cared for
nothing else. She was running away
from something; what that wes she
did not know. But she remembered
L lOIGllNGt III SIT hNAllCd u lOOh DdLhs
yet hated to do so for fear of the
nameless danger Florence had men
toned.
Madeline listened for the pounding
of pursuing hoofs in her rear. Invol-
unfairly she glanced back. On the
mile or more of gray level between
her and the ridge there was not n
horse, a man. or anything living. She
wheeled to look back on the other
side, down the valley slope.
The sight of Florence riding Majesty
in zigzag flight before a whole troop of
~vaqueros blanched Madeline's cheek
and made her grip the pommel of her
saddle in terror. That strange gait
of her roan was not his wonderful
stride. Could Majesty be running
wild? 1t flashed over Madeline that
Florence was putting the horse to
some such awkward flight as might
have been expected of an eastern girl
frightened out of her wits. Madeline
made sure of this when, after looking
again, she saw that Florence, in spite
of the horses breaking gait and the
irregular course, was drawing slowly
and surely down the valley.
Madeline had not lost her head
to the extent of forgetting her own
mount and the nature of the ground in
front. When, presently, she turned