ged arroyo just before moonrise,
circling the town, Florrie scarcely marking whether they rode north or
south. But Galloway knew what he was doing and they turned slowly
toward the southwest. As they rode, his horse drawn in close to hers,
he talked as he had never talked before; his voice rang from the first
word with triumphant assurance.

"When he calls she will follow!" Virginia had thought fearfully of
them. To-night he was calling eloquently, she was following,
frightened and yet obedient to his mastery.

Galloway's influence over the girl, that of a strong will over a weak
and fluttering one, was quite naturally the stronger when they were
alone together. She had always been willing, sometimes a bit eager, to
make a hero of him; he had long thoroughly understood her. To-night
was the brief battle of wills, with him summoning all of his strength,
flushed with victory. Abruptly now he urged that she marry him; a
moment later his insistent pleading was subtly tinged with command. He
was the arbiter of the hour; he told her of a priest waiting for them
at a little village a dozen miles away. They would be married
to-night; they were eloping even at this palpitant instant!

When Florence would have stopped, of two balancing minds, he urged the
horses on. When she would have procrastinated, he beat down her
opposition with the rush of his words. Even while she struggled she
was yielding; Galloway was quick to see how her resistance was growing
fainter. And all the time, while he spoke vehemently and she for the
most part listened in a fascinated silence, they were riding on through
the moonlit night. . . . It seemed to her that surely he must love her
as few men had loved before. . . .

The village he had promised her was in reality but two poor houses at a
crossroads, inhabited by two Mexican men and dowdy women. On the way
they encountered but one horseman; Galloway turned his own and
Florence's animals out so that, though seen, they might escape
recognition. At the nearest of the two hovels he dismounted, raising
his arms to her. When she cried out and shrank back trembling, he
laughed softly, caught her in his arms, and lifted her free of the
saddle; when he would have kissed her she put her face into her two
hands.

"I . . . I want to go back!" she whispered. "I am afraid! Please, Mr.
Galloway, please let me go home."

Dogs were barking, a man and woman came out. The man laughed. Then h