Part 32 (2/2)

”Yes,” she answered impatiently. ”Of course you can't see _in a blizzard_!”

A moment later a blinding cloud of sand struck them with such force that both the horses slewed sharp about and stood an instant, trembling with the shock. As they turned to the north again, a few flakes of snow came flying almost horizontally in their faces and then--the storm came!

Horses and riders bent their heads to the blast, and on they went. It had suddenly grown bitterly cold.

”I wish you would take my coat,” said Stephen, fumbling at the b.u.t.tons as he had fumbled at the bridle. His teeth were chattering as he spoke.

”Nonsense!” Amy answered sharply. ”You'll feel this ten times as much as I.”

The snow was collecting in Stephen's beard, freezing as it fell, and making fantastic shapes there; the top of Amy's hat was a white cone, stiff and sharp as if it were carved in stone.

They could not see a rod before them, but they found it easier to breathe now.

”Isn't it splendid, the way one rouses to it!” Amy exclaimed. ”I'm getting all heated up from the effort of breathing!”

There was no answer.

”Don't you like it?” she asked, taking a look at his set face.

”Like it? With you out in it!”

That was all he said, but Amy felt her cheeks tingle under the dash of snow that clung to them. The answer came like a rude check to the exultant thrill which had prompted her words.

”He doesn't understand in the least!” she thought, impatiently, and it was all she could do to refrain from spurring on her horse and leaving him in the lurch as she had done once before, that day. He was faint-hearted, pusillanimous! What if it were only for her sake that he feared? All the worse for him! She did not want his solicitude; it was an offence to her!

The wind whistled past them, and the snow beat in their faces; the shapes in his beard grew more and more fantastic, the white cone on her hat grew taller, and then broke and tumbled into her lap; the horses bent their heads, all caked with snow, and cantered pluckily on.

They had pa.s.sed the gate of the ranch, leaving it open behind them, and now there were but a couple of miles between them and the town. The snow was so blinding that they did not see a group of buckboards and saddle-horses under a shed close at hand, nor guess that some of the party had found shelter in a house near by. They rode swiftly on, gaining in speed as they approached the town. The horses were very close together, straining, side by side, toward the goal. Amy's right hand lay upon her knee, the stiff fingers closed about the riding-crop. If she had thought about it at all, she would have said that her hand was absolutely numb. Suddenly, with a shock, she felt another hand close upon it, while the words, ”_my darling!_” vibrated upon her ear; the voice was so close that it seemed to touch her cheek. She started as if she had been stung.

”Oh, my riding-crop!” she cried, letting the handle slip from her grasp.

”I beg your pardon,” Stephen gasped, in a low, pained tone. ”If you will wait an instant, I will get it for you!”

He turned his horse about, for they had pa.s.sed the spot by several lengths.

Sunbeam stood for a moment, obedient to his rider's hand, while Amy watched the storm close in about her departing cavalier. As he vanished from view, a sudden, overpowering impulse of flight seized her. Without daring to think of what she was doing, she bent down and whispered ”_go!_” in the low sharp tone that Sunbeam knew. He was off like a shot.

”I don't care, I don't care,” the girl said to herself, over and over again, as they bounded forward in the teeth of the storm. ”Better now than later!”

She wondered whether Stephen would kill his horse endeavoring to overtake her; she wondered whether he would ever overtake her again!

Somehow it seemed to her as if the storm had caught her up bodily and were bearing her away from a very perplexing world. After all, what an amenable, unexacting sort of thing a blizzard was! How very easy to deal with! You had only to duck your head, and screw up your eyes, and cleave your way through it, and on it went, quite unconcerned with your moods and tenses! If Stephen Burns were only more like that, she thought to herself! But, alas! poor Stephen, with all his strong claims to affection and esteem, could not a.s.sert the remotest kins.h.i.+p with the whistling winds and blinding snow which were proving such formidable rivals!

A narrow lane appeared at her right. Almost before she was aware that it was there, she had swung Sunbeam about; in another moment they were standing, with two other saddle-horses, in a little grove of trees, further protected by a small house close at hand. It seemed almost warm in that sheltered nook. Amy recognized the horses and knew that Harry de Luce and one of the girls must have taken refuge within.

The lane was a short one, and she and Sunbeam stood, trembling with excitement, until they saw the shadow of a horse and rider speeding along the road toward the town. Then Amy drew a long breath of relief.

”It was all nothing but a shadow,” she said to herself, ”and I went and thought it was real!”

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