And swift she would join me, and all would be well
Without bloodshed or word.

And now, as she fell

From the front, and went down in the ocean of fire,
The last that I saw was a look of delight

That I should escape — a love — a desire

Yet never a word, not one look of appeal,

Lest I should reach hand, should stay hand or stay heel One instant for her in my terrible flight.

Then the rushing of fire around me and under,

And the howling of beasts, and a sound as of thunder
Beasts burning and blind and forced onward and over,
As the passionate flame reached around them, and wove her
Red hands in their hair, and kissed hot till they died -
Till they died with a wild and desolate moan,

As a sea heart-broken on the hard brown stone. . . .

All alone, save only a horse long-limbed
And blind and bare, and burnt to the skin.
Then, just as the terrible sea came in

And tumbled its thousands hot into the tide,

Till the tide blocked up and the swift stream brimmed
In eddies, we struck on the opposite side.

- From the "Poems of Joaquin Miller," copyright edition, with permission of Whitaker, Ray-Wiggin Co., publishers.

WE

A GALLOP OF THREE

́E were off, we three, on our gallop to save and to slay.

"We'll keep this

tell you my plan.

Pumps and Fulano, the iron-gray horse and the black, took fire at once. They were ready to burst to their top speed and go off in a frenzy. "Steady, steady," cried Brent. long, easy lope for a while, and I'll They have gone to the southward, They cannot get away in any other direction; and I've heard Murker say that he knows all the country between here and the Arkansaw. Thank heaven! so do I, every foot of it."

those two men.

I recalled the sound of galloping hoofs I had heard in the night, going southward; and I told him about it.

"That's good if you heard them," said he. "We

But they have seven or
It is long odds to their

know we're on their track. eight hours the start of us. advantage. Yet they did not ride as we shall ride; for they are not mounted as we are mounted. They had a woman to carry, and their pack mules to drive. They will fear pursuit, and push on without stopping. But we shall catch them; we shall catch them before night."

"Are you aiming for the mountains?" I asked. "For Luggernel Alley," he answered.

I remembered having heard him speak of that place before.

"They will make for the Luggernel Springs," he continued. "The Alley is the only gate through the mountains towards the Arkansaw. If they can get by there, they are safe. But we have only lost a little time. And now that we are fairly under way I think we might shake out another reef. A little faster, my friends a little faster yet!"

And so, we three rode abreast over the sere brown plain on our gallop to save and to slay.

Farah, how terribly dim and distant was the sierra! Slowly, slowly they lifted, those gracious heights, while we sped over the harsh levels of the desert.

We galloped abreast- Armstrong at the right. His weird, gaunt white held his own with the best of us. No whip, no spur, for that deathly creature.

He went as if his master's purpose were stirring him through and through. The man never stirred, save sometimes to put a hand to the bloody bandage across his head and temple.

Next in the line I galloped. Oh, my glorious black! The great killing pace seemed mere playful canter to him. But from time to time he surged a little forward with his great shoulders, and gave a mighty writhe of his body, while his long legs lifted his flanks under me, telling of the giant reserve of speed and power he kept easily controlled.

At the left rode Brent, our leader. He knew the region; he made the plan; he had the hope; his was the ruling passion, stronger than brotherhood, than revenge. Love made him leader of that galloping three. His iron-gray, Pumps, bent grandly, with white mane flapping the air like a signal flag of reprieve. Eager hope and kindling purpose made the rider's face more beautiful than ever. I felt I felt my heart grow great when I looked at his calm features and caught his assuring smile - a gay smile but for the. dark, fateful resolve beneath it.

So we galloped three abreast, neck and neck, hoof with hoof, steadily quickening our pace over the sere width of the plain. We must make the best of our levels. Rougher work, cruel obstacles, were before

us.

On we galloped - the avenger, the friend, the lover on our errand to save and to slay.

It came afternoon, as we rode on steadily. The country grew rougher. The horses never flinched, but they sweated freely, and the foam from their nostrils flecked their shoulders. By-and-by, with little pleasant, admonitory puffs, a breeze blew down from the frosty edges of the sierra, and cooled us. Horses and men were cheered, and freshened, and lifted anew to their work.

We held steadily for that notch in the sierra. The mountain lines grew sharper, the country rougher with every stride. Presently we came upon a wide tract covered with wild sage bushes. These delayed and baffled us. It was a pigmy forest of trees, mature and complete, but no higher than the knee. We lost time; moments we lost more precious, it seemed to me, than so many pearls.

"This delay worries me," I said to Brent.

"They lost as much more time than we," he answered grimly.

We tore along, breaking through and over the sage bushes, each man where best he could. Fulano began to show me what leaps were in him. I gave him his head. No bridle would hold him.

Suddenly a little pathway in the bushes opened before me. I dashed on a hundred yards in advance of my comrades.

What was this? The bushes trampled and broken down, just as we in our passage were trampling and breaking them. What?