Molly McDonald | Page 5

of the young lady?"
The Major crossed over to his fatigue coat hanging on the wall, and extracted a small photograph from an inside pocket.
"This was taken a year ago," he explained, "and was considered a good likeness then."
Hamlin took the card in his hands, studied the face a moment, and then placed it upon the table.
"You figure she ought to leave Ripley on the 18th," he said slowly. "Then I shall need to start at once to make Dodge in time."
"You mean to go then? Of course, you realize I have no authority to order you on such private service."
"That's true. I 'm a volunteer, but I 'll ask you for a written order just the same in case my Troop commander should ever object, and I 'll need a fresh horse; I rode mine pretty hard coming up here."
"You shall have the pick of the stables, Sergeant," interjected the cavalry captain, knocking the ashes from his pipe. "Anything else? Have you had rest enough?"
"Four hours," and the Sergeant stood up again. "All I require will be two days' rations, and a few more revolver cartridges. The sooner I 'm off the better."
If he heard Travers' attempt at conversation as the two stumbled together down the dark hill, he paid small attention. At the stables, aided by a smoky lantern, he picked out a tough-looking buckskin mustang, with an evil eye; and, using his own saddle and bridle, he finally led the half-broken animal outside.
"That buckskin's the devil's own," protested Travers, careful to keep well to one side.
"I 'll take it out of him before morning," was the reply. "Come on, boy! easy now--easy! How about the rations, Captain?"
"Carter will have them for you at the gate of the stockade. Do you know the trail?"
"Well enough to follow--yes."
McDonald was waiting with Carter, and the dim gleam of the lantern revealed his face.
"Remember, Sergeant, you are to make her turn back if you can. Tell her I wish her to do so--yes, this letter will explain everything, but she is a pretty high-spirited girl, and may take the bit in her teeth--imagine she 'd rather be here with me, and all that. If she does I suppose you 'll have to let her have her own way--the Lord knows her mother always did. Anyhow you 'll stay with her till she 's safe."
"I sure will," returned the Sergeant, gathering up his reins. "Good-bye to you."
"Good-bye and good luck," and McDonald put out his hand, which the other took hesitatingly. The next instant he was in the saddle, and with a wild leap the startled mustang rounded the edge of the bluff, flying into the night.
All had occurred so quickly that Hamlin's mind had not yet fully adjusted itself to all the details. He was naturally a man of few words, deciding on a course of action quietly, yet not apt to deviate from any conclusion finally reached. But he had been hurried, pressed into this adventure, and now welcomed an opportunity to think it all out coolly. At first, for a half mile or more, the plunging buckskin kept him busy, bucking viciously, rearing, leaping madly from side to side, practising every known equine trick to dislodge the grim rider in the saddle. The man fought out the battle silently, immovable as a rock, and apparently as indifferent. Twice his spurs brought blood, and once he struck the rearing head with clenched fist. The light of the stars revealed the faint lines of the trail, and he was content to permit the maddened brute to race forward, until, finally mastered, the animal settled down into a swift gallop, but with ears laid back in ugly defiance. The rider's gray eyes smiled pleasantly as he settled more comfortably into the saddle, peering out from beneath the stiff brim of his scouting hat; then they hardened, and the man swore softly under his breath.
The peculiar nature of this mission which he had taken upon himself had been recalled. He was always doing something like that--permitting himself to become involved in the affairs of others. Now why should he be here, riding alone through the dark to prevent this unknown girl from reaching Devere? She was nothing to him--even that glimpse of her pictured face had not impressed him greatly; rather interesting, to be sure, but nothing extraordinary; besides he was not a woman's man, and, through years of isolation, had grown to avoid contact with the sex--and he was under no possible obligation to either McDonald or Travers. Yet here he was, fully committed, drawn into the vortex, by a hasty ill-considered decision. He was tired still from his swift journey across the desert from Fort Union, and now faced another three days' ride. Then what? A headstrong girl to be convinced of