In between the boulders he darted, twisting here and
there, and always erect and jaunty in the saddle,
swaying easily with every movement of the mare.
Not far behind him came the girl. Fine rider that
she was, she could not hope to compete with such matchless
horsemanship where man and horse were only one piece
of strong brawn and muscle, one daring spirit.
Many a time the chances seemed too desperate to her,
but she followed blindly where he led, setting her
teeth at each succeeding venture, and coming out safe
every time, until they swung out at last through a
screen of brush and onto the level floor of the valley.
In the heart of that valley two roads crossed.
Many a year before a man with some imagination and
illimitable faith was moved by the crossing of those
roads to build a general merchandise store.
Time justified his faith, in a small way, and now
McGuire’s store was famed for leagues and leagues
about, for he dared to take chances with all manner
of novelties, and the curious, when their pocketbooks
were full, went to McGuire’s to find inspiration.
Business was dull this night, however; there was not
a single patron at the bar, and the store itself was
empty, so he went to put out the big gasoline lamp
which hung from the ceiling in the center of the room,
and was on the ladder, reaching high above his head,
when a singular chill caught him in the center of
his plump back and radiated from that spot in all
directions, freezing his blood. He swallowed the
lump in his throat and with his arms still stretched
toward the lamp he turned his head and glanced behind.
Two men stood watching him from a position just inside
the door. How they had come there he could never
guess, for the floor creaked at the lightest step.
Nevertheless, these phantoms had appeared silently,
and now they must be dealt with. He turned on
the ladder to face them, and still he kept the arms
automatically above his head while he descended to
the floor. However, on a closer examination, these
two did not seem particularly formidable. They
were both quite young, one with dark-red hair and
a somewhat overbright eye; the other was hardly more
than a boy, very slender, delicately made, the sort
of handsome young scoundrel whom women cannot resist.
Having made these observations, McGuire ventured to
lower his arms by jerks; nothing happened; he was
safe. So he vented his feelings by scowling on
the strangers.
“Well,” he snapped, “what’s
up? Too late for business. I’m closin’
up.”
The two quite disregarded him. Their eyes were
wandering calmly about the place, and now they rested
on the pride of McGuire’s store. The figure
of a man in evening clothes, complete from shoes to
gloves and silk hat, stood beside a girl of wax loveliness.
She wore a low-cut gown of dark green, and over her
shoulders was draped a scarf of dull gold. Above,
a sign said: “You only get married once;
why don’t you do it up right?”
