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Show der restlessly, and in the pawing tusofs and lifted horns, John woke ud to the. danger. In the North, the haze resolved itself into a heavy bank that grew every moment. We were miles from home when we turned. The herd before us began to circle back. John's I face grew graver with every glance at the darkening North. Little gusts of wind came and went, now whirling the sand in small columns, then dropping, like a live creature toying with its prey. It grew so dark that I could hardly see John's face as he rode alongside along-side me. "Margaret, my Margaret, we must ride for our lives. Never mind the cattle." cat-tle." As these words left his lips there was a prolonged roar, a blinding crash, and the world was shrouded in a fire-veined fire-veined void of night, and the crash of God's artillery filled all space. Red Bess trembled and stood still with a low whinny of fear. The horse that John rode sunk to his haunches, as out of the night, over the thunder voices, rang the shrill sharp neigh of a horse, and the sharp, keen ring of galloping gal-loping hoofs so near, that as he passed, the blare of the lightning shone on the white eye-balls. With bridle and empty saddle, passed the glass-eyed broncho. Red Bess screamed, and lunged out with her hoofs, and then like a mad thing, flew for home. I can fell it yet, the cut of the wind and the drenching rain, with the awful cannonade, and behind us a new sound, the like of which had never yet been heard the rush of a thousand maddened cattle. John gave Red Bess a cut with the quirt and digging his spurs deep, we made the race for our lives. I could see his face, as the green glare of the lightning flashed between us, but I could not hear a word. It was a silent goodbye, that each thought to be the last, and still we rode on. Just out from the corral, came Miguel Mi-guel and Pete, heading a searching nartv. It was home and safety, and there were no questions asked, but Miguel crossed his breast as he bared his head in a mutterd prayer to "Our Lady of Guadaloupe." Of that night's work, and the ruin that lay in the track of the glass-eyed glass-eyed broncho, it would be weary telling, tell-ing, but when the pitiful remnants of the herd was rounded up, and we faced the worst, relief was written on every face. We had "Dreed the weird," and over the fire, the men sang the border songs once more, and told even darker tales of the "Ghost of the Glass-Eyed Broncho." on John expressing his opinion of men, women and things, including Miguel and the glass-eye, which was not a thing, he failed to answer to call. Neither were Bright-eyes or the jap-poose jap-poose to be found. - John came in that night, seemingly having 'caught the mood of the men. I stood it as long as woman-nature could be expected to, and then began to question ques-tion him. Two or three turns up and down the room, and then he faced around in his favorite position on the hearthrug. . "It amounts to this, little woman: The entire layout of the Alaho have The Ghost of the Aloho. BY C. P. GREENLET. (Copyright, 1901, by Daily Story Pub. Co.) The scorching summer had passed, and the October winds shrilled over the wastes of brown sage grass, where the prairie chickens fluttered from every knoll, and the sharp, in-sistant in-sistant "Bob White," "Peas ripe?" "Not quite" rang to and fro on the nipping frost-laden air. There was a vague hint of uneasiness uneasi-ness among the men and cattle. Twice, there had been a barely averted stampede, stam-pede, and the cause there lay the crux of the matter. You have heard, how in the first days of the Alaho, it was owned by an Englishman who set his traditions at naught, and took to wife the daughter daugh-ter of Jose, the Mexican, whose ranch lay to the south, touching the Alaho for miles? Then you have also heard the tale of the glass-eyed broncho, who galloped from the Red death, straight into the cyclone's heart? Many years have come and gone since then. The black-eyed Nita sleeps in the old Spanish cemetery where the white trail of the mesa ends; and the Englishman has gone to his own place over-sea. In the old hacienda, a young Jose reigns in the old man's stead; but. when the autumn comes, and the Dark Gods ride over the mountain crest and mesa, men say that the glass-eyed broncho gallops out to the West-woe to the herd, and woe to the man that , meets him along the ride, for death and ruin ride in the wake of the fire-shod fire-shod heels, and the cattle VpJ fear, as the long-drawn neigh shrills out of the dark. White man, red man, cowboy and greaser, when the night comes, and Sey gather at the gate of the corral, whisper omniously, and there is a silence si-lence that means trouble. John had laughed much and argue more, but against a dead wall of The glass-eyed broncho. gone ghost crazy, and there will be serious se-rious trouble if I cannot find some way to stop it. Some have actually refused to ride the trail that leads from Jose s. I will ride it myself in the morning. At the present stage of the game, it will never do to force an issue. Pete and Miguel together have set the whole force by the ears, and the cattle seem to have caught it, too. They are roving rov-ing all the time, and it is hard enough to keep up with them as it is, without this additional nonsense. The morrow dawned a perfect October Oc-tober day, and to John's dismay, I ordered or-dered Red Bess saddled, and insisted on riding that trail with him. "Let me go, it will do more to quiet them than anything else," I said, and after a show of argument, he agreed with me. The boys crowded to the gate as we rode out and there was a faint cheer as they caught sight of me. I saw an anxious look on old Pete's face, as he stood, the last one gazing after me, for the trail that led to Jose s was the trail the glass-eye rode. John's spirits went up as we cantered along, and the day passed swiftly. The cattle were scattered here and there-under our feet the dried grass rustled, and the keen wind died down. We talked of m.nv thines, but, somehow, could not many things, but, somenow, coma uu keep off the subject of the two- that had once ridden this trail in the long ago Two, young and full of life as we and now-that Alaho was ours, and they were passed beyond. John told me old tales that he had heard from the ners of the early days when men rangers, of the eany aays wnu and women faced the red death day by day and the song of the bullet shrilled above the cradles of the wilderness-stories of the old graves in Se cemetery, where Nita lies, of the Soanish rancheros, and the passing of priest and don before the hardy men from the East. The heat grew more intense. The cattle were very quiet at first, but as the day declined, they began to waa- "Let me go." rugs, and sullenness that grew with Seattle had been restless and un- S'frSttcorral. forth, rumor had gone among them: . Eusty Pete had seen the glass ey Pete dran deeper and than ever before. Even . S j, refused to ride the South wa . ;' I . J. |