"Do you want to wait till
tomorrow?"
She could not answer for a moment, the wind whipping against her face,
while a big drop stung her lips.
She said at length: "Would a night like this stop Pierre--or McGurk?"
For answer she heard his laughter.
"Then I'll start. I must never stop for weather."
He rode up beside her.
"This is the start of the finish."
"What do you mean?" "Nothing. But somewhere on this ride, I've an
idea a question will be answered for me."
"What question?"
Instead of replying he said: "You've got a slicker on?"
"Yes."
"Then follow me. We'll gallop into the wind a while and get the horses
warmed up. Afterward we'll take the valley of the Old Crow and follow
it up to the crest of the range."
His horse lunged out ahead of hers, and she followed, leaning far
forward against a wind that kept her almost breathless. For several
minutes they cantered steadily, and before the end of the gallop she
was sitting straight up, her heart beating fast, a faint smile on her
lips, and the blood running hot in her veins.
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