of her Uncle Josiah,
Ophelia, Skinny Rawlins--poor fellow, how susceptible was his big,
innocent, boyish heart! She called each one up in a mental effort to
remember how they had looked, the sound of their voices--they were only
names--dim shadowy names! There was nothing in the whole world but Old
Blue--herself--and the sand--the sand--an eternity of sand pulling,
dragging, sucking her down! She closed her eyes tightly, thinking to
shut out the impression of utter loneliness. The face of the Ramblin'
Kid flashed into her mind! She could see him! She saw him lying under
the shed, as he had looked that morning, his head resting on the saddle,
his eyes gazing steadily into her own; she saw him again as he had
looked when she stung him with her harsh words at the gate. She seemed
to see the agonized humility in his expression and hear the low
tenseness of his voice as he repeated aloud the words she had used--"An
ign'rant, savage, stupid brute!" She laughed almost hysterically. "Why
can I see him--just him--and not the others? Has he come to--to--haunt
me?" she finished with a gasp.

The sand had reached her breast. How long before it clutched at her
throat? Her mouth? Her eyes? Ah, would she hold up her arm as she went
down--down--and reach out her hand as if to wave the world a last, long
farewell? "I will--I will!" she cried, the pressure around her body
almost stopping her breath, "I--I--will--and--wiggle my fingers to the
end!" she added with a choking half-hysterical laugh, so tightly did she
cling to life. Her mood changed. "I--guess--I ought to pray!" she said,
"but--I--God--God knows anyhow!" her voice trailing away to a whisper as
if she had grown suddenly, utterly, tired. She stretched out her hands
once more with the hat, trying to use it to buoy her up. Under the
weight of her arms it sank in the sand. She tossed it to one side. "It
will--stay--on top by itself," she choked. "I--I--will leave it--maybe
they will find it--and know--" She felt her senses were leaving her.
Even yet she had not called for help. It had not occurred to her that
rescue was possible. As if it were an echo to her thoughts there came
the throbbing tattoo of hoofs pounding the earth. She listened intently.
Some one was riding down the lane toward the river from the ranch! The
horse was evidently running--running madly, desperately. Would he cross
at the upper or lower ford? Her heart pulsed with heavy dull throbs. The
sand was crushing