Gale ground his teeth in helpless
rage at the girl's fate. If she had not been beautiful she might
still have been free and happy in her home. What a strange world
to live in--how unfair was fate!
The sounds of hoofbeats grew louder. Gale made out a dark moving
mass against a background of dull gray. There was a line of horses.
He could not discern whether or not all the horses carried riders.
The murmur of a voice struck his ear--then a low laugh. It made him
tingle, for it sounded American. Eagerly he listened. There
was an interval when only the hoofbeats could be heard.
"It shore was, Laddy, it shore was," came a voice out of the darkness.
"Rough house! Laddy, since wire fences drove us out of Texas we ain't
seen the like of that. An' we never had such a call."
"Call? It was a burnin' roast," replied another voice. "I felt
low down. He vamoosed some sudden, an' I hope he an' his friends
shook the dust of Casita. That's a rotten town Jim."
Gale jumped up in joy. What luck! The speakers were none other
than the two cowboys whom he had accosted in the Mexican hotel.
"Hold on, fellows," he called out, and strode into the road.
The horses snorted and stamped. Then followed swift rustling
sounds--a clinking of spurs, then silence. The figures loomed
clearer in the gloom.. Gale saw five or six horses, two with
riders, and one other, at least, carrying a pack. When Gale got
within fifteen feet of the group the foremost horseman said:
"I reckon that's close enough, stranger.
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