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Page 24
She watched him as he went swiftly down the street; then she turned
into the hotel and down the hall, which echoed to the click of her
heels, and to her room. She had barely had time to change for her ride
and to glance at her "war bag" when a discreet knock sounded at her
door. Going to the door she found that it was Julius Struve instead of
Norton.
"You are to come with me," said the hotel keeper softly. "He is
waiting with the horses."
They passed through the dark dining-room, into the pitch black kitchen
and out at the rear of the house. A moment Struve paused, listening.
Then, touching her sleeve, he hurried away into the night, going toward
the black line of cottonwoods, the girl keeping close to his heels.
At the dry arroyo Norton was waiting, holding two saddled horses.
Without a word he gave her his hand, saw her mounted, surrendered
Persis's jerking reins into her gauntletted grip and swung up to the
back of his own horse. In another moment, and still in silence,
Virginia and Norton were riding away from San Juan, keeping in the
shadows of the trees, headed toward the mountains in the north.
And now suddenly Virginia found that she was giving herself over
utterly, unexpectedly to a keen, pulsing joy of life. She had
surrendered into the sheriff's hands the little leather-case which
contained her emergency bottles and instruments; they had left San Juan
a couple of hundred yards behind, their horses were galloping; her
stirrup struck now and then against Norton's boot. John Engle had not
been unduly extravagant in praise of the mare Persis; Virginia sensed
rather than saw clearly the perfect, beautiful creature which carried
her, delighted in the swinging gallop, drew into her soul something of
the serene glory of a starlit night on the desert. The soft thud of
shod hoofs upon yielding soil was music to her, mingled as it came with
the creak of saddle leather, the jingle of bridle and spur-chains. She
wondered if there had ever been so perfect a night, if she had ever
mounted so finely bred a saddle animal.
Far ahead the San Juan mountains lifted their serrated ridge of ebony.
On all other sides the flat-lands stretched out seeming to have no end,
suggesting to the fancy that they were kin in vastitude to the clear
expanse of the sky. On all hands little wind-shaped ridges were like
crests of long waves in an ocean which had just now been stilled,
brooded over by the desert silence and the desert stars.
"I suppose," said Norton at last, "that it's up to me to explain."
"Then begin," said Virginia, "by telling me where we are going."
He swung up his arm, pointing.
"Yonder. To the mountains. We'll reach them in about two hours and a
half. Then, in another two hours or so, we'll come to where Brocky is.
Way up on the flank of Mt. Temple. It's going to be a long, hard
climb. For you, at the end of a tiresome day. . . ."
"How about yourself?" she asked quickly, and he knew that she was
smiling at him through the dark. "Unless you're made of iron I'm
almost inclined to believe that after your friend Brocky I'll have
another patient. Who is he, by the way?"
"Brocky Lane? I was going to tell you. You saw something stirring in
the patio at Engle's? I had seen it first; it was Ignacio who had
slipped in under the wide arch from the gardens at the rear of the
house. He had been sent for me by Tom Cutter, my deputy. Brocky Lane
is foreman of a big cattle-ranch lying just beyond the mountains; he is
also working with me and with Cutter, although until I've told you
nobody knows it but ourselves and John Engle. . . . Before the night
is out you'll know rather a good deal about what is going on, Miss
Page," he added thoughtfully.
"More than you'd have been willing for me to know if circumstance
hadn't forced your hand?"
"Yes," he admitted coolly. "To get anywhere we've had to sit tight on
the game we're playing. But, from the word Cutter brings, poor old
Brocky is pretty hard hit, and I couldn't take any chances with his
life even though it means taking chances in another direction."
He might have been a shade less frank; and yet she liked him none the
less for giving her the truth bluntly. He was but tacitly admitting
that he knew nothing of her; and yet in this case he would prefer to
call upon her than on Caleb Patten.
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