..I knew--I prayed--I trusted. Lassiter, I
almost gave--all myself to soften you to Mormons. Thank God, and
thank you, my friend....But, selfish woman that ] am, this is no
great test. What's the life of one of those sneaking cowards to
such a man as you? I think of your great hate toward him who--I
think of your life's implacable purpose. Can it
be--"
"Wait!...Listen!" he whispered. "I hear a hoss."
He rose noiselessly, with his ear to the breeze. Suddenly he
pulled his sombrero down over his bandaged head and, swinging his
gun-sheaths round in front, he stepped into the alcove.
"It's a hoss--comin' fast," he added.
Jane's listening ear soon caught a faint, rapid, rhythmic beat of
hoofs. It came from the sage. It gave her a thrill that she was
at a loss to understand. The sound rose stronger, louder. Then
came a clear, sharp difference when the horse passed from the
sage trail to the hard-packed ground of the grove. It became a
ringing run--swift in its bell-like clatterings, yet singular in
longer pause than usual between the hoofbeats of a horse.
"It's Wrangle!...It's Wrangle!" cried Jane Withersteen. "I'd know
him from a million horses!"
Excitement and thrilling expectancy flooded out all Jane
Withersteen s calm. A tight band closed round her breast as she
saw the giant sorrel flit in reddish-brown flashes across the
openings in the green.
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