She stood gazing about her at the vast herds of cattle and horses grazing all about the valley and the gentle slopes. In front she could see the heavily willowed banks of a stream, and secretly rejoiced, for she was longing for a drink.
West was looking behind him over the road they had just come. “Well, the stage is not so slow today. Old Charley must be pounding them on the back.”
[CHAPTER IV]
THE HESITATING LARIAT
Bess could discern in the distance the stage with its little, trailing cloud of dust. “Please let us mount again. I’m quite rested, and want to reach the stream before the stage arrives.”
“You are thirsty, Miss Fletcher?” he asked, solicitously, hastening to assist her to remount.
The horses started eagerly forward, the scent of fresh water in their nostrils.
“We are nearly half-way home. The bridge yonder is about half the distance,” said West.
Suddenly he was so alarmed by a shrill cry from the girl that he brought the surprised Eagle almost to his haunches with a sudden stop.