Before them, the trail, beaten and rutted, stretched interminably, losing itself in the darkness before it slipped over the rounded margin of the world. As darkness increased, the trail seemed to waver before their eyes like a gray scarf that the wind stirs on the ground. On either side of it, the nature of the country varied with strange abruptness, now an unbroken stretch of dead sage-brush showing like isolated tufts in a gigantic clothes-brush suddenly, a wilderness of white sand shifting as the wind rose again, broken rocks sown broadcast. Before final darkness came, the trail itself was varicolored, sometimes white with alkali, sometimes skirting low hills whose sides showed a deep blue, streaked with crimson.

But now all was black, sand, alkali, gypsum-beds, for the night had fallen.

In their wide detour they had endeavored to escape detection from the stage-station, but sheltered by no appreciable inequalities of land, and denied the refuge that even a small grove might have furnished, they had, as it were, been held up to view on the prairie; and though so far away, their horses had been as distinctly outlined as two ants scurrying across a white page.

Wilfred reflected. “If Kimball, when he came out of that restaurant, happened to look in this direction, he must have seen us; and the first inquiry at the barn would inform him who’re on the horses.’ But he said nothing until, from the rear, came the sound long-dreaded, telling, though far away, of bounding horses and groaning wheels.

“Lahoma!”

“Yes I hear them.”

“My horse is about used up. We’ll have to side-trail, or they’ll ride us down.”

“I could go on,” Lahoma answered, as she drew bard on the bit, “but I wouldn’t like to leave you here by yourself.”

“You couldn’t travel that distance by yourself. And good as your horse is, it wouldn’t last. But thank you for thinking of me,” he added, smiling in the darkness, as he dismounted. “Let me lead your horse as well as my own.”

“No,” said Lahoma, “if leading is to be done, I’ll do my part.” She leaped lightly to the ground and seized her bridle. Side by side they slowly ventured from the trail into the invisible country on the left. They found themselves treading short dead mesquit that did not greatly obstruct their progress.

“Keep going,” Wilfred said, when she paused for breath. “It wouldn’t do for our horses to whinny, for those fellows would hear them if it was thundering. Give me your hand.”

“Here it is,” Lahoma felt about in the darkness. “My! but I’m glad I’ve got you, Wilfred! Oh, how they are dashing along! Listen how the man is lashing his whip over those four horses. Wish we could see ’em must be grand, tearing along at that rate!”

The stage was rapidly coming up abreast of them, and Wilfred felt her grasp tighten. There was a flash of lights, a glimpse of the driver’s face as of creased leather as he raised his whip above his head then noise and cloud of dust passed on and the lights became trailing sparks that in a minute or two the wind seemed to blow out.

“My poor Brick!” Lahoma wailed. “Do you think he’ll take good enough care of himself from what I wrote in my letters? But no, he doesn’t think Red Kimball is coming yet, for I didn’t know it till after I’d written. He’s with Bill now, waiting for another letter. Or for a telegram.”

“No, no, Lahoma,” Wilfred tried to sooth her. “He has been hiding for days. Why should he come out just at the wrong time? You wrote that you’d not send any more messages. Brick will be on the lookout for Kimball. He is sure to be watching out for him.”

“I know Brick,” Lahoma protested, seemingly all at once overcome by the fatigues of her journey and the hopelessness of the situation. “I was afraid he wouldn’t agree to hide at all; and just as soon as you came away, and there wasn’t any more prospects of letters, he’d get lonesome, and tire of staying away from home. He’s in that cove this minute, and he’ll be there when Red Kimball takes the sheriff after him.” Her voice quivered with distress.

“Don’t be afraid, Lahoma,” urged Wilfred, slipping his arm protectingly about her. “Don’t grieve I’m sure Brick is in a safe place.”

“Well, I’m not in danger,” said Lahoma, with-drawing from his involuntary embrace. “Don’t take me for Brick! Maybe you’re right but no, I’m sure he wouldn’t be willing to stay out in the mountains week after week and during these cold nights! For it is cold, right now. We must hurry on, Wilfred.”

“There’s one comfort,” said Wilfred, as they retraced their way toward the trail. “Mr. Gledware won’t appear as a witness against Brick. We’ll get him cleared, easy enough.”

“But Mr. Gledware will appear against him, and he’ll swear anything that Red Kimball wants.”

“I thought he agreed to do that only on condition that a certain pin ”

“Yes! But Red Kimball brought him that pin just before I left!”

“Brought him the pin that the Indian had?”

“Yes, the pearl and onyx pin. And Mr. Gledware seemed to consider it so important that I know Red Feather would never have given it up while he had life.”

“Then...?”

Lahoma shuddered. “Yes! You see, now, what a fiend Red Kimball is. And you know, now, what a hold he has over Mr. Gledware, can make him testify in such a way as to ruin my poor Brick. If Brick knew this, he’d understand how important it is to flee for his life and never, never let himself be taken. But he thinks nobody could get the better of Red Feather. You see, if he just dreamed what has happened, he’d know Mr. Gledware can convict him.”

“We must reach Brick Willock before Red Kimball gets his warrant!” exclaimed Wilfred desperately.

“Yes, we must, we must!” Lahoma was growing slightly hysterical. “I won’t mind any hardship, any danger but what are we to do? You won’t let me ride on alone and you wouldn’t be willing to leave me here and take the good horse yourself.”

“You’re quite right about that!” returned the young man promptly. “We can only mount again, and go as fast as my miserable beast can travel, hoping for some chance to come our way. We have the advantage of not being in the stage where Kimball could keep an eye on us.”

“I ought to be more thankful for that than I am,” Lahoma sighed. They mounted, but as they rode forward, Wilfred’s horse lagged more and more.

“It’s slow sailing,” Wilfred remarked, “but it will give us a chance to talk. By the way, do you feel ready for supper?” From his overcoat pocket he drew forth the sandwiches.

It seemed to Lahoma to show an unfeeling heart to experience hunger at such a time, and to find the ham sandwiches good; but it was none the less true that they were good, and the mustard with which the ham was plastered added a tang of hope and returned a defiant answer to the cold inquiry of the north wind.

After they had eaten and the remaining sandwiches had been carefully stowed away in Wilfred’s capacious pocket, they pressed forward with renewed energy on the part of all save Wilfred’s horse. By dint of constant urging it was kept going faster than a walk though it was obsessed by a consuming desire to lie down. In order to keep Lahoma’s mind from dwelling on their difficulties and on Brick’s peril, the young man maintained conversation at high pressure, ably seconded by his companion who was anxious to show herself undaunted.

Wilfred chose as the topic to engage Lahoma’s mind, the future of Oklahoma Territory. The theme filled him with enthusiasm such as no long-settled commonwealth is able to inspire, and though Lahoma considered herself a Texan, she was able to enter into his spirit from having always lived at the margin of the new country. Wilfred dwelt on the day when Oklahoma would no longer be represented in congress by a delegate without the right to vote, but would take its place as a state whose constitution should be something new and inspiring in the history of civil documents.

Wilfred meant to have a part in the framing of that constitution and as he outlined some of his theories of government, Lahoma listened with quick sympathy and appreciation. A new feeling for him, something like admiration, something like pride, stirred within her. Here was a man who meant to do things, things eminently worth a man’s time and strength; and yet, for all his high purposes, there was no look, no tone, to indicate that he held himself at a higher valuation than those for whom he meant to labor. As in time of stress the strongest man is given the heaviest burden, so he seemed to take to himself a leading part in the future of his country that all who dwelt within its borders might find it a freer, a richer, a better country because of him.

“You’ll call me ambitious,” said Wilfred, glowing. “Well, I am. You’ll accuse me of wanting power. So I do!”

Her eyes flashed. “And I’m ambitious for you!” she cried. “Go ahead and get power. Take the earth! Don’t stop till you reach the sea that’s the spirit of the West. But how did you ever think of these things?”

“During my long winters on my quarter-section, nobody in sight just the prairie and me. Nothing else to think about except the country that’s new-born. So I studied out a good many things, just thinking about Oklahoma and and ”

Lahoma said softly, “I knew there was something else you thought about.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Wilfred, thrilled. “Yes there was something else!”

“A little girl, I guess,” murmured Lahoma gently, with a touch of compassion in her tone.

“You’ve guessed it, Lahoma yes, the dearest little girl in the world.”

“I wish she could have cared for you that way like your voice sounds,” murmured Lahoma.

“Maybe she can,” Wilfred’s voice grew firmer. “Yes she must!”

“Have you found a gold-mine?”

“What are you talking about, Lahoma? What has a gold-mine to do with it?”

“Because nothing else goes,” returned Lahoma decisively. “You might get single statehood for Oklahoma, and write the constitution yourself, and be elected governor but you’d look just the same to Annabel, unless you had a gold-mine.”

Wilfred gave a jerk at his bridle. “Who’s talking about Annabel?” he cried rather sharply. He had forgotten that there was an Annabel.

“Everybody is,” returned Lahoma, somewhat sharply on her own account, “everybody is, or ought to be!”

“I am not,” retorted Wilfred, springing to the ground just in time for his horse, on being checked, had promptly lain down.

“Then that’s what you get!” remarked Lahoma severely, staring down at the dark blur on the trail which her imagination correctly interpreted as the horse stretched out on its side.