down along the
ground, stretching, with his nose level and straight for the valley.
Between him and the lean horses in pursuit lay an ever-increasing space.
He was running away from the vaqueros. Florence was indeed "riding the
wind," as Stewart had aptly expressed his idea of flight upon the fleet
roan.

A dimness came over Madeline's eyes, and it was not all owing to the
sting of the wind. She rubbed it away, seeing Florence as a flying
dot in a strange blur. What a daring, intrepid girl! This kind of
strength--and aye, splendid thought for a weaker sister--was what the
West inculcated in a woman.

The next time Madeline looked back Florence was far ahead of her
pursuers and going out of sight behind a low knoll. Assured of
Florence's safety, Madeline put her mind to her own ride and the
possibilities awaiting at the ranch. She remembered the failure to
get any of her servants or cowboys on the telephone. To be sure, a
wind-storm had once broken the wire. But she had little real hope of
such being the case in this instance. She rode on, pulling the black as
she neared the ranch. Her approach was from the south and off the usual
trail, so that she went up the long slope of the knoll toward the back
of the house. Under these circumstances she could not consider it out of
the ordinary that she did not see any one about the grounds.

It was perhaps fortunate for her, she thought, that the climb up the
slope cut the black's speed so she could manage him. He was not very
hard to stop. The moment she dismounted, however, he jumped and trotted
off. At the edge of the slope, facing the corrals, he halted to lift
his head and shoot up his ears. Then he let out a piercing whistle and
dashed down the lane.

Madeline, prepared by that warning whistle, tried to fortify herself for
a new and unexpected situation; but as she espied an unfamiliar company
of horsemen rapidly riding down a hollow leading from the foothills she
felt the return of fears gripping at her like cold hands, and she fled
precipitously into the house.

XI. A Band of Guerrillas

Madeline bolted the door, and, flying into the kitchen, she told the
scared servants to shut themselves in. Then she ran to her own rooms.
It was only a matter of a few moments for her to close and bar the heavy
shutters, yet even as she was fastening the last one in the room she
used as an office a clattering roar of hoofs seemed to swell up to the
front of the house. She