t house,
carrying their riders at breakneck speed into the one and only street.
At first Greek took it to be a race, and then he thought it a runaway.
As it was the first interesting incident since Grand Central Station
had dropped out of sight four days ago, he craned his neck to watch.

The two riders were half-way down the street now, a tall bay forging
steadily ahead of a little Mexican mustang until ten feet or more
intervened between the two horses. The train jerked; the Wells Fargo
man, with his truck alongside the express-car far ahead, yelled
something to the man who had taken his packages aboard.

"The bay wins," grinned the fat man. "It looks--Gad! It's a woman!"

Greek saw that it was a woman in khaki riding-habit, and that the
spurs she wore were gnawing into her horse's flanks. He began to take
a sudden, stronger interest. He leaned farther out, hardly realizing
that he had called to the conductor to hold the train a moment. For it
was at last clear that these were not mad people, but merely a couple
of the dwellers of the desert anxious to catch Number 1. But the
conductor had waved his orders and was swinging upon the slowly moving
steps. From the windows of the train a score of heads were thrust out,
a score of voices raised in shouting encouragement. And down to the
tracks the woman and the man behind her rushed, their horses' feet
seeming never to touch the ground.

A bump, a jar, a jerk, and the Limited was drawing slowly away from
the station. The woman was barely fifty yards away. As she lifted her
head Greek saw her face for the first time. And, having seen her ride,
he pursed his lips into a low whistle of amazement.

"Why, she's only a kid of a girl!" gasped the fat man. "And, say,
ain't she sure a peach!"

Greek didn't answer. He was busy inwardly cursing the conductor for
not waiting a second longer. For it was obvious to him that the girl
was going to miss the train by hardly more than that.

But she had not given up. She had dropped her head again and was
rushing straight toward the side of the string of cars. Greek held his
breath, a swift alarm for her making his heart beat trippingly. He did
not see how she could stop in time.

Again a clamor of voices from the heads thrust out of car windows,
warning, calling, cheering. And then suddenly Greek sat back limply.
The thing had been so impossible and in the end so amazingly simple.

Not ten feet away from the train she had drawn in