urt of vitriol. He
saw the wild cattle break through the fence--the new "bunch" which Carmen
had just got from Arizona. He saw them struggling, and trampling each
other down, and sweeping through the gap like a wave through a broken
dyke. He saw a figure in white running toward him, and knew it was Angela
May--knew that she must die unless he could be in time to save her.

Nick turned the car, and sent it leaping off the road, to bound over the
rough hummocks, billowing under the heat-baked grass. He looked like a
dead man, with only his eyes and hands--his strong, firm hands--alive. The
motor rocked on the green waves as if in a stormy sea, and groaned like a
wounded bull--one of those who had died there at the broken fence, with
their hearts' blood in their mouths.

It was almost on her now--the wild black wave--with death in its wake and
death in its gift; but he reached her first, and leaning out while the car
swerved--as many a time he had leaned from his galloping bronco in cowboy
days, to pick up a hat or a handkerchief--he caught Angela up beside him.
Then with a twist of the steering-wheel he gave the Bright Angel a
half-turn that sent her flying along in front of the cattle, almost
underneath the tossing horns and plunging hoofs. Thus he shot past the
surging line of them, since he could not turn round sharply to run before
the wave without risk of upsetting. As the automobile dashed past, the
cattle surged on irresistibly; but Nick and Angela in the car were beyond
the reach of hoofs and horns.

Three mounted cowboys saw the race won, and yelled a wild yell of triumph,
but their duty was to the cattle. They went about their business knowing
that the car was safe; and Nick neither saw the men nor consciously heard
their shouts.

Angela was half fainting. Holding her up, he steered as he could, slowing
down now lest the jumping springs of the car should break. He drove away
from, not toward, Mrs. Gaylor's house. He would not take Angela back to
Carmen even for a moment. Yet as she was alone and swooning she could not
go to his house. He caught at the idea of a quick run into Bakersfield in
search of a doctor. But when he saw at last that Angela was slowly coming
to herself, drawing deep, sobbing breaths, her eyelashes trembling on wet
cheeks, he eased the car down on a quiet stretch of road, under the shade
of young walnut-trees and oaks. There he stopped for a while, in the cool
tree shadows.

"You're saf