The Golden Woman

"It's hot--hot as hell," he said with another meaningless laugh.

The girl read through his words and the laugh--read through them to the thought behind them, and promptly protested.

"Don't worry for me. I can stand--anything now."

The added squeeze of her arm upon his shoulders set Buck's teeth gritting.

Suddenly he reined Cæsar in.

"I must know 'bout that--shakin'," he said.

For a second the horse stood with heaving body. It was only a moment, but in that moment he spread out his feet as though to save himself from falling. Then in answer to the spur he sped on.

"It's the earth, sure," cried Buck. And had there been another escape he would have turned from the barren hill now rising amidst the banking smoke-clouds ahead of him.

"Earthquake!" said the girl.

"Yes."

Nothing more was said. The air scorched their flesh, and Joan was fearful lest the falling sparks should fire her clothing. With every passing moment Cæsar was nearing their forbidding goal. The fire was so adjacent that the roar and crackle of it shrieked in their ears, and through the trees shone the hideous gleam of flame. It was neck and neck, and their hope lay beneath them. Buck raked the creature's flanks again with his spurs, and the gallant beast responded. On, on they sped at a gait that Buck knew well could not last for long. But with every stride the hill was coming nearer, and it almost seemed as if Cæsar understood their necessity, and his own. Once Joan looked back. That sturdy horse of the Padre was doggedly pursuing. Step for step he hugged his stable companion's trail, but he was far, far behind.

"The Padre," cried Joan. "They are a long way back."

"God help him!" cried Buck, through clenched teeth. "I can't. To wait fer him sure means riskin' you."

"But----" Joan broke off and turned her face up to the canopy of smoke driving across them. "Rain!" she cried, with a wild thrill of hope. "Rain--and in a deluge."

In a moment the very heavens seemed to be emptying their reservoirs. It came, not in drops, but in streams that smote the earth, the fire, themselves with an almost crushing force. In less than half a minute they were drenched to the skin, and the water was pouring in streams from their extremities.

"We've won out," cried Buck, with a great laugh.

"Thank God," cried Joan, as she turned her scorched face up to receive the grateful water.

Buck eased the laboring Cæsar.

"That fire won't travel now, an'--ther's the hill," the man nodded.