The Girl from Montana

him to his mother's bedside quicker than a horse could go. She felt by the look in his eyes and the set of his mouth that he had already decided that. Of course he mu

er out of the wilderness; and now that she was safe the a

men do not carry a fortune when they go out into the wilderness for a day's shooting. Fortunately he had his railroad return ticket to Philadelphia. That would carry him safe

ses, and try to get money enough to take us East

knew it was her opportunity to show that

th you," she sa

in and get to my mother as soon as possible. She may not be living when I reach her if I don't.

l quietly. "You must g

ountry as fast as steam can carry us. I am sorry you must part with your horse, for I know you are attached to it; but perhaps we can arrange to sell it to some one who will let us redeem it when we send the money

were firm, and the girl was sitting very erect. She

t w

on the ranch told me. She said you knew girls did not do that, and that you did not

gry, half ashamed that she sho

e of necessity. You are to be taken

ustom among people w

im down, and he had to

t go," she s

. If you don'

way, I'll run away from you. I've run away from one man, and I

t la

who rides in a carr

to talk about this matter. We haven't time. If you will just trust things to me, I'll attend to them all, and I'll answer your questions when we get safely on the train. Every instant is p

the girl bravely, "and I can't let

ely know you're a great deal to me

mine. That was beaut

lion in the wilderness would have to respect you. You're made of iron and steel and precious stones. You've the courage of a-a-I was going to say a man but I mean an angel. You're pure

back to hide

when he turned again, and

simply. "That makes me-very-gl

at?" he asked h

" ste

all have t

ith. And what would she think? Mothers are-everything!" she fin

emed to burn and sear its way into her soul. How was it that a stra

the platform. They were not in particular need of a horse at present; but they were always ready to look at a bargain, a

ut the worth of the saddle once when she saw it was going lower than it should. Three other men gathere

cision. But the talk and the horse-selling had taken more time than he realized. The girl was more decided than ever in her determination not to go with him.

an it seemed like a dreaded fate that was tearing him asunder. He had barely time to divest himself of his powder-horn, and a few little things that might be helpful to the girl in her journey, before the train was halting at the station. Then he took from his pocket the money that had been paid hi

ving my life. I can never repay you. Take it. You may return it sometime when you get plenty more of your own, if it hurts your pride to keep it. Take it, please. Yes, I have plenty for mys

move again," said the girl, an awesome wonder in her face

ward the train, a

your name!" he gasp

ght her

answered, and w

rm. He swung himself aboard with the accustomed ease of a man who has travelled; but he

ide in him to stand on that swaying, clattering house as it moved off irresponsibly down the plane of vision. She watched him till he was out

e dear, and her lips as she smiled; and her hand was beautiful as it waved him good-by. She was dear, dear, dear! Why had he not known it? Why had he left her? Yet h

ly old saloon, rough and tumble, its character apparent from the men who were grouped about its doorway and from the barrels and kegs in profusion outside. From the doorway issued four men, wiping their mouths and shouting hilarious

girl were one with the little brown station so far away, and presently th

leave her in such peril. She was his to care for by all the rights o

that to jump off would be instant death. Then the thought of his mot

reen and brown and yellow blur were gone from sight. He felt as if he had

it all over, and trying to make out whether those men had been the pursuers, made him feel frantic; and it seemed as if he must pull the bell-cord, and make the train stop, and get off to walk back. Then the utter hopelessness of ever finding her would come over

e would never know. Oh! why had he left her? Why had he not made her go with him? In a case like that a man should assert his authority. But, then, it was true he had none, and she had said she would run away.

ut here he had maundered on, and never found out the all-important things about her. Yet how did he know then how important they were to be? It had seemed as if they had all the world before them in the brilliant sunlight. How could he k

could not recognize one's own brother at that distance and that rate of passing speed. He tried to think that Elizabeth would be cared for. She had come through many a danger, and was it likely that the God in whom she trusted, who had

ady? The lady! Ah! How was it the lady came no more into his thoughts? The memory of her haughty face no more qui

n an unknown trail, hearing voices and oaths through the darkness, and seeing the gleaming of wild eyes low in

t on through

gth of the car and down the steps to the ground. He even stood there, and let the train start jerkily on till his car had passed him, and the steps were just sliding by, and tried to think whether he would not stay, and go back

leather grip and a suitcase. He sat down to read his letters, and these took his mind away from his troubled thoughts for a little while. There was a letter from his mother, sweet, graceful, half wistfully offering her sympathy. He saw sh

Elizabeth in the schoolhouse on Sunday afternoon. "For in the time of trouble he

ing his hat down closer over his eyes, and prayed as he had never prayed before. "Our Father" he stumbled through as far as he could remember, and tried to think how her sweet voice had filled in the places where he had not known it the other time. Then, when he was done, he waited and prayed, "Our Father, care for Elizabe