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always unreliable； must have forgotten to fill it when she told him to。
By the road she must be thirty miles from home if she were a step；
across country as the crow flies； perhaps twenty。 She was a young woman
of resolution； and she wasted no time in tears or regrets。 The XIX ranch；
owned by a small 〃nester〃 named Henderson； could not be more than five
or six miles to the southeast。 If she struck across the hills she would be
sure to run into one of the barblines。 At the XIX she could get a horse and
reach the Lazy D by midnight。 Without any hesitation she struck out。 It
was unfortunate that she did not have on her heavy laced high boots； but
she realized that she must take things as she found them。 Things might
have been a good deal worse； she reflected philosophically。
And before long they were worse； for the increasing darkness blotted
out the landmarks she was using as guides and she was lost among the hill
waves that rolled one after another across the range。 Still she did not give
way； telling herself that it would be better after the moon was up。 She
could then tell north from south； and so have a line by which to travel。 But
when at length the stars came out； thousands upon thousands of them； and
looked down on a land magically flooded with chill moonlight； the girl
found that the transformation of Wyoming into this scence of silvery
loveliness had toned the distant mountain line to an indefinite haze that
made it impossible for her to distinguish one peak from another。
She wandered for hours； hungry and tired and frightened； though this
last she would not confess。
〃There's nothing to be afraid of；〃 she told herself over and over。 〃Even
if I have to stay out all night it will do me no harm。 There's no need to be a
baby about it。〃
But try to evade it as she would； there was something in the loneliness
of this limitless stretch of hilltop that got on her nerves。 The very shadows
cast by the moonshine seemed too fantastic for reality。 Something eerie
and unearthly hovered over it all； and before she knew it a sob choked up
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her throat。
Vague fancies filtered through her mind； weird imaginings born of the
night in a mind that had been swept from the moorings of reason。 So that
with no sensible surprise there came to her in that moonlit sea of desert the
sound of a voice a clear sweet tenor swelling bravely in song with the very
ecstacy of pathos。
It was the prison song from 〃Il Trovatore；〃 and the desolation of its
lifted appeal went to the heart like water to the roots of flowers。
Ah！ I have sigh'd to rest me。 Deep in the quiet grave。
The girl's sob caught in her breast； stilled with the awe of that
heavenly music。 So for an instant she waited before it was borne in on her
that the voice was a human one； and that the heaven from which it
descended was the hilltop above her。
A wild laugh； followed by an oath； cut the dying echoes of the song。
She could hear the swish of a quirt falling again and again； and the sound
of trampling hoofs thudding on the hard； sun…cracked ground。 Startled； she
sprang to her feet； and saw silhouetted against the skyline a horse and his
rider fighting for mastery。
The battle was superb while it lasted。 The horse had been a famous
outlaw； broken to the saddle by its owner out of the sheer passion for
victory； but there were times when its savage strength rebelled at abject
submission； and this was one of them。 It swung itself skyward； and came
down like a pile…driver； camel…backed； and without joints in the legs。
Swiftly it rose again lunging forward and whirling in the air； then jarred
down at an angle。 The brute did its malevolent best； a fury incarnate。 But
the ride； was a match； and more than a match； for it。 He sat the saddle like
a Centaur； with the perfect： unconscious grace of a born master； swaying
in his seat as need was； and spurring the horse to a blinder fury。
Sudden as had been the start； no less sudden was the finish of the
battle。 The bronco pounded to a stiff…legged standstill； trembled for a long
minute like an aspen； and sank to a tame surrender； despite the sharp spurs
roweling its bloody sides。
〃Ah； my beauty。 You've had enough； have you？〃 demanded the cruel；
triumphant voice of the rider。 〃You would try that game； would you？ I'll
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teach you。〃
〃Stop spurring that horse； you bully。〃
The man stopped； in sheer amazement at this apparition which had
leaped out of the ground almost at his feet。 His wary glance circled the
hills to make sure she was alone。
〃Ce'tainly； ma'am。 We're sure delighted to meet up with you。 Ain't we；
Two…step？〃
For himself； he spoke the simple truth。 He lived in his sensations；
spurring himself to fresh ones as he had but just now been spurring his
horse to sate the greed of conquest in him。 And this high…spirited； gallant
creaturehe could feel her vital courage in the very ring of her voice
offered a rare fillip to his jaded appetite。 The dusky； long…lashed eyes
which always give a woman an effect of beauty； the splendid fling of head；
and the piquant； finely cut features； with their unconscious tale of Brahmin
caste； the long lines of the supple body； willowy and yet plump as a
partridgethey went to his head like strong wine。 Here was an adventure
from the godsa stubborn will to bend； the pride of a haughty young
beauty to trail in the dust； her untamed heart to break if need be。 The lust
of the battle was on him already。 She was a woman to dream about；
〃Sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes； Or Cytherea's breath；〃
he told himself exultantly as he slid from his horse and stood bowing
before her。
And he； for his part； was a taking enough picture of devil…may…care
gallantry gone to seed。 The touch of jaunty impudence in his humility； not
less than the daring admiration of his handsome eyes and the easy； sinuous
grace of his flexed muscles； labeled him what he wasa man bold and
capable to do what he willed； and a villain every inch of him。
Said she； after that first clash of stormy eyes with bold； admiring ones：
〃I am lostfrom the Lazy D ranch。〃
〃Why； no； you're found；〃 he corrected； white teeth flashing in a smile。
〃My motor ran out of gasolene this afternoon。 I've been〃there was a
catch in her voice〃wandering ever since。〃
〃You're played out； of course； and y'u've had no supper；〃 he said； his
quiet close gaze on her。
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〃Yes； I'm played out and my nerve's gone。〃 She laughed a little
hysterically。 〃I expect I'm hungry and thirsty； too； though I hadn't noticed
it before。〃
He whirled to his saddle； and had the canteen thongs unloosed in a
moment。 While she drank he rummaged from his saddle…bags some
sandwiches of jerky and a flask of whiskey。 She ate the sandwiches； he the
while watching her with amused sympathy in his swarthy countenance。
〃You ain't half…bad at the chuck…wagon； Miss Messiter；〃 he told her。
She stopped； the sandwich part way to her mouth。 〃I don't remember
your face。 I've met so many people since I came to the Lazy D。 Still； I
think I should remember you。〃
He immediately relieved of duty her quasi apology。 〃You haven't seen
my face before；〃 he laughed； and； though she puzzled over the double
meaning that seemed to lurk behind his words and amuse him； she could
not find the key to it。
It was too dark to make out his features at all clearly； but she was sure
she had seen him before or somebody that looked very much like him。
〃Life on the range ain't just what y'u can call exciting；〃 he continued；
〃and when a young lady fresh from back East drops among us while
sixguns are popping； breaks up a likely feud