familiar swagger, the smile with which he
regarded her did not in the least deceive Madeline. The gray was still
in his face. Incomprehensible as it seemed, Nels had a dread, an uncanny
fear, and it was of that huge white automobile. But he lied about it.
Here again was that strange quality of faithfulness.

Madeline heard the buzz of the car. Link appeared driving up the slope.
He made a short, sliding turn and stopped before the porch. Link had
tied two long, heavy planks upon the car, one on each side, and in every
available space he had strapped extra tires. A huge cask occupied one
back seat, and another seat was full of tools and ropes. There was
just room in this rear part of the car for Nels to squeeze in. Link put
Madeline in front beside him, then bent over the wheel. Madeline waved
her hand at the silent cowboys on the porch. Not an audible good-by was
spoken.

The car glided out of the yard, leaped from level to slope, and started
swiftly down the road, out into the open valley. Each stronger rush of
dry wind in Madeline's face marked the increase of speed. She took one
glance at the winding cattle-road, smooth, unobstructed, disappearing
in the gray of distance. She took another at the leather-garbed,
leather-helmeted driver beside her, and then she drew the hood of veils
over her face and fastened it round her neck so there was no possibility
of its blowing loose.

Harder and stronger pressed the wind till it was like sheeted
lead forcing her back in her seat. There was a ceaseless, intense,
inconceivably rapid vibration under her; occasionally she felt a long
swing, as if she were to be propelled aloft; but no jars disturbed the
easy celerity of the car. The buzz, the roar of wheels, of heavy body
in flight, increased to a continuous droning hum. The wind became an
insupportable body moving toward her, crushing her breast, making the
task of breathing most difficult. To Madeline the time seemed to
fly with the speed of miles. A moment came when she detected a faint
difference in hum and rush and vibration, in the ceaseless sweeping of
the invisible weight against her. This difference became marked. Link
was reducing speed. Then came swift change of all sensation, and she
realized the car had slowed to normal travel.

Madeline removed her hood and goggles. It was a relief to breathe
freely, to be able to use her eyes. To her right, not far distant, lay
the little town of Chiricahua. Sight of it made he