Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1911-Jan 1912)

TEE STOLEN GREY 31 A sudden light broke over Maynard's understanding. "Did Pedro's gang ride by this house?" he asked. "Yes." "And did your father buy your horse of Pedro?" "Yes." "Great Scott!" cried Maynard. "Pedro stole that horse from me. When he saw it here he dropped the branding iron beside it to throw suspicion on your father, and his infernal scheme worked. My boys are after your father! They think he's the thief!" The girl's eyes flashed fire as she drew herself up proudly. "My father a horse thief!" she stormed; "my daddy, who " She broke off suddenly as the realization of what it meant swept over her, and swayed faintly. Maynard sprang toward her, but she recovered herself instantly, and with one swift bound was upon the grey's back, turning a white face over her shoulder as she sped away. "We must catch them!" she gasped. Straight as an arrow across the brown, parched mesa dashed the grey, followed closely by Maynard 's horse. As they reached the ravine and turned into the narrow trail Maynard rode close, trying to speak an encouraging word, but the words died out, silenced by the dread and anguish on the girlish face. Up they climbed, urging their horses where the trail was smooth, picking their way carefully along sharp, stony rises where a misstep would mean accident and delay. The air was cool and quiet in the ravine. A ground wind, rustling in the ferns, stirred a faint earthy smell that mingled with the spice of the pines. Birds called from tree to tree, their wings glinting in the sapphire light that flickered thru the foliage; a red chipmunk chattered saucily along the trail before them. It seemed incredible that so sweet and peaceful a trail could lead to the dark, sordid tragedy which both were silently fearing to come upon. Suddenly the trail ended in a broad, open space that stretched straight away before them. As they paused for an instant, sweeping the clearing with anxious eyes, Doris, with a cry of horror, leaned close to Maynard, snatched the revolver from his belt and was off like the wind. The man rode after her, only half comprehending at first the significance of the ominous scene which her clear eyes had grasped instantly. But as they rode he saw clearly, and his blood chilled, his breath came in harsh gasps, his heart seemed to stop. Must the girl witness that scene ? He tried to ride closer, to catch the grey's bridle, to stop the headlong flight and turn the girl's face away, but she kept a yard ahead of him, plunging on to the ghastliest scene that ever a daughter was called to witness. There was one lone pine standing out sharply against the golden wonder of the sky, and beneath the green boughs, on his own pony, sat Dolan, his hands pinioned, a rope about his neck dr* *7n taut over a bough. The men, too aosorbed in their grim task to hear the approaching hoofs, fell back, holding the rope, and the foreman stood ready with his quint, to lash Dolan 's faithful beast from under him. Still the girl rode desperately, straight in her saddle, never faltering. The quint fell. Dolan 's horse plunged forward and at the same instant a shot rang out and the rope dangled free! It was a full minute before any of the dazed group realized what had occurred. They stood gazing, hardly believing their own eyes, from the swaying rope to the girl whose swift, sure shot had severed it. It was the foreman who found his voice first. "That was some shootin'," he remarked, tersely. When the story had been told and the boys, with profuse and abject apologies, had ridden on in search of Pedro, Maynard turned to Dolan.