The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1935-06-29
SWeetheartS

stout mentor waving 20 him from
the courtyard.
wild goose chase, Margarita,"
murmured Mrs. Houghton, sinking
into a basket chair and tanning
herself vigorously. But that's what
it is to be young, my dear. Bring
me some hmeade-there'S good
girl"
Many times during that afternoon
cid Michael stop in order to let the
burning engine cool off slightly. He
ragged at the delay, but there was
no helping matters When night fell
he kept on. His Montana days stood
him in good stead at this juncture
He was used to empty roads and
coyotes bowling and the arched
loneliness Of the far-aWay sky. The
desert held no terrOrS for this man.
Toward morning he rested a little
so as to be fresh for the new day
AS yet he had not passed a single
car. The MillardS did not travel at
night, Mrs. HOughtOn had assured
him, so he was certain not to lose
them thus. BY day he would have
to be abnormally alert to scrutinize
every vehicle which passed him. A
touring car it was that Katharine
was travelling in; a large gray tour
ing car with green wheels.
Michael drank some of the coffee
and ate a few Of the sandwiches
Margarita had prepared. He might
have to go all the way to the noun
tains, in the event the N1illards had
delayed their start. He must be
ready for that. His eyes were blurred
from searching the horizon. Once
some MeXicanS passed him in a
rickety chariot. And there was a
shabby car with a California license,
with some bedraggled children in
the back seat and a shiftleSs looking
couple in front. Typical drifters.
n
T ONG past noon he came in sight
II of three or four dots on the
desert floor straight ahead and his
heart leaped. But he reminded him
self that it was idotic to suppose
that every sign of life he saw meant
Katharne's party.
Besides, as he drew nearer, he
could see that the dots were station
airy. There was a car, but it was not
moving. And there was a tent. No
seasoned travellers pitched camp in
the desert during the day.
But the car was a gray touring
car with green wheels. Michael drew
up with a screech of brakes. A
middle-aged woman in camp clothes,
with signs of agitation in her face,
came around the corner Of the car
and stared at him.
rs this Mr.. N1illard's campo"
1T isl" Amusement in her voice.
rs Miss Strykhurst here?" Mi
chaeTs voice sounded cracked and
harsh.
Miss Strykhurst is-Hilda, come
here!" called Evelyn Vincent. Mi
chael paled. What mystery was
this?
A blond woman of 40 with her hair
in the widest disorder, her smart
riding breeches torn and stained,
appeared from the shadow of the
car.
We're nearly distracted" she be-
gan volubly. Katharine must have
wandered off while we slept. My
husband and his brother have looked
and looked. 1t seems hopeless"
Michael said sharply, Lost? Since
When?" No one bothered to ask who
he was or why he was there. They
told him all they knew. Katharine
had been gone since sun-up. Frank
and Dirk had wandered about call
ing
my Cod" Michael struck his
hands together. If he had only
started sooner this dreadful thing
would not have happened. He
thought, in an agony, of his hour
at luncheon on the day before, of
the enforced waits during the aft
ernoon as the engine cooled.
Good Cod" he repeated. eve
must do something. A plane"
That's what I said" Miss Vim
cent began, but Frank wouldn't
consent to going off with the car.
He said she might come back and
would think she'd been deserted
Poor child I hate to say it, but
I'm very much afraid we shan't see
her again" said Hilda Willard. She
began hopelessly to cry.
Michael shook her arm. where
can I get a plane?" he asked harsh
Ily. Il must find one at once"
TO Be Continued