Ah! I have sigh'd to rest me.
Deep in the quiet grave.

The girl's sob caught in her breast, stilled with the awe of that
heavenly music. So for an instant she waited before it was borne in on
her that the voice was a human one, and that the heaven from which it
descended was the hilltop above her.

A wild laugh, followed by an oath, cut the dying echoes of the song. She
could hear the swish of a quirt falling again and again, and the sound
of trampling hoofs thudding on the hard, sun-cracked ground. Startled,
she sprang to her feet, and saw silhouetted against the skyline a horse
and his rider fighting for mastery.

The battle was superb while it lasted. The horse had been a famous
outlaw, broken to the saddle by its owner out of the sheer passion
for victory, but there were times when its savage strength rebelled at
abject submission, and this was one of them. It swung itself skyward,
and came down like a pile-driver, camel-backed, and without joints in
the legs. Swiftly it rose again lunging forward and whirling in the air,
then jarred down at an angle. The brute did its malevolent best, a fury
incarnate. But the ride, was a match, and more than a match, for it. He
sat the saddle like a Centaur, with the perfect: unconscious grace of a
born master, swaying in his seat as need was, and spurring the horse to
a blinder fury.

Sudden as had been the start, no less sudden was the finish of the
battle. The bronco pounded to a stiff-legged standstill, trembled for
a long minute like an aspen, and sank to a tame surrender, despite the
sharp spurs roweling its bloody sides.

"Ah, my beauty. You've had enough, have you?" demanded the cruel,
triumphant voice of the rider. "You would try that game, would you? I'll
teach you."

"Stop spurring that horse, you bully."

The man stopped, in sheer amazement at this apparition which had leaped
out of the ground almost at his feet. His wary glance circled the hills
to make sure she was alone.

"Ce'tainly, ma'am. We're sure delighted to meet up with you. Ain't we,
Two-step?"

For himself, he spoke the simple truth. He lived in his sensations,
spurring himself to fresh ones as he had but just now been spurring
his horse to sate the greed of conquest in him. And this high-spirited,
gallant creature--he could feel her vital courage in the very ring
of her voice--offered a rare fillip to his jaded appetite. The dusky,
long-lashed eyes which always give a woman an effec