There was a lone pine tree hardly larger than a bush about a half-mile
from the track, and riding to this, the girl, whose name was Josephine,
had dismounted to seek its scant protection, while the herder tried to
hold the frightened horses. As peal on peal of thunder resounded and the
electric lights of nature played tag over the plain, the horses became
more and more unmanageable and at last stampeded, with old Paz muttering
Mexican curses and chasing after them wildly.
After the storm passed, Josephine waited in vain for Paz and the
bronchos, and then debated whether she should walk toward her home or
back to the corrals. In either direction the distance was long, and the
adobe soil is very tenacious when wet, and the wayfarer needs great
strength to carry the load it imposes on the feet. As she stood there,
thinking what it was best to do, a sound came to her ears from the
direction of the timber and home, which she recognized in an instant,
and without waiting to debate further, she turned and ran with all her
strength, not toward her home, but away from it.
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