"LOCOED"
(_A story of a Texan girl._)
BY EDWARD MARSHALL
John Fredding had laughingly taken his sister Martha as a partner in hisTexas saddle store. She made a good partner although she was onlythirteen years old. There were other women on the ranch (the saddlestore was only an adjunct of the big cattle-ranch itself), but thegrandmother was very old, and the servant-girl was Welsh and would notlearn to speak more English than was required in the daily routine ofhousework.
Not far away was the town of Amarilla (pronounced Ah-ma-ree-ah). Therewere plenty of women and girls there, but Martha knew none of them wellexcept the preacher's daughter, Scylla. Martha and Scylla were greatfriends. They saw each other as often as Martha could get time andpermission to ride in to Amarilla. Scylla could seldom visit the ranch,for she was an invalid. When she had been a very little girl, a horsehad kicked her. She was ill for many weeks, and after the doctor hadtold her parents that she would live, he had added that she might neverhave full use of her right side again. It was partially paralyzed.
But Martha was seldom lonely. For in the daytime there was alwayssomething to do around the ranch or store. She had her pet calf toattend to, for one thing. He was given to her by a cow-boy who bought asaddle from her brother one day, and who cried that evening when Marthaplayed "Home, Sweet Home" for him on her guitar. The calf was in severalrespects remarkable. In the first place, he was almost black--an unusualthing among Texas cattle. In the second place, he was not quite black,for he had a white spot on his forehead shaped almost exactly likeMartha's guitar. That was why they called him "Gitter." In the thirdplace, Martha had taught him several tricks. He had learned to low threetimes when he was thirsty, and twice when he was hungry; he would standon his hind legs and paw the air with his front legs for a moment whenMartha cried, "Up, Gitter!" and he would lie down and roll over on thegrass when she commanded "Down, Gitter!" She had a cat that would climbup on her shoulder whenever he got the chance, and a clever dog thatliked the cat. She had two horses, also. One of them was an ordinary"cow-pony," but the other was a big black Spanish horse who seemed tolove Martha as well as she loved him. When she was on his back he nevervaried his long, swinging, graceful gallop by jumping or shying, but ifany one else rode him, he was apt to make them hold fast when he wentaround corners. His name was "Dan." Martha thought almost as much of thecow-pony, though, as she did of Dan, and called him "Texas," after thegreat State she lived in.
Her brother, too, did many things to make her happy. In the long winterevenings he often read to her for hours, or taught her new airs on theguitar, of which he was a master; and sometimes, when summer came, theytook long rides off on the prairie together. These occurred when therewas a band of cow-boys camped near by, and John generally combinedbusiness with pleasure by talking with them about cattle and saddles.But that did not detract at all from Martha's enjoyment of the rides.She always carried her guitar swung over her shoulder by a strap whenshe went out with her brother to see the cow-boys.
"SOMETIMES WHEN SUMMER CAME THEY TOOK LONG RIDES ON THEPRAIRIE TOGETHER."]
The little girl's life was a queer one, but then, she was a queer littlegirl and among queer people. For instance, there was "Mister Jim," whocame up to the store every few weeks to lay in supplies. Mister Jim wasone of the men who were hired to keep wild animals out of the Canon. TheCanon was a favorite place for Amarilla's excursions and picnics, andwas very beautiful; but it communicated with other canons into whichpicnics could never penetrate, and in which there were wild beasts ofmany kinds. To prevent these unpleasant visitors from wandering wherethey were not wanted, men were stationed at various places to shootthem. Mister Jim was the one nearest to Martha's home, and he wasMartha's stanch friend. He never went to the ranch without some gift forher--the soft pelt of an animal he had shot, the gay wings of a strangebird, or some crystal or stone he had found in his explorations of theCanon. Martha returned his admiration. He lived in a cave, and thatinterested her--she thought she might like to try it herself some time.She considered his clothes very grand and impressive. In the Canon hewore a leather suit; but when he visited the ranch he was alwaysdressed in black velvet trimmed with gold braid, and wore a high,pointed hat wound with red ribbons like those of the seldom-appearingMexican cow-boys, only much finer.
But the "loco men" were Martha's favorites. There were three ofthem--Big Billy, Little Billy, and One-eyed Saylo. Why Saylo was called"one-eyed" was a mystery, for he had two of the very best eyes forspying the hated loco-weed ever known in that region. Loco-weed grows,when unmolested, to a height of sixteen or eighteen inches, and itsqueer leaves shine and sparkle in the sunlight like silver and crystals.Its effects on horses or cattle that happen to eat it are worse thandeadly. One good, big meal of loco-weed will ruin an animal forever.
A locoed horse, once locoed, is locoed until he dies. Apparently he mayrecover wholly, but he is not a safe animal to ride, for at any momenthe may stagger and fall, or go suddenly mad. A locoed horse is almostcertain to show it when he becomes heated by rapid traveling or hardwork. The great danger from locoed cattle is, that they will begin totumble around in the midst of a herd and frighten their fellows into astampede.
As it can work such ruin, in order to avoid the danger of having theiranimals locoed, the ranchmen, in those regions where the weed isplentiful, hire men to search for it, cut it down, and destroy it. Ofthese men who make their living in searching for the dreaded loco-weedand destroying it wherever found were Big Billy, Little Billy, andOne-eyed Saylo.
One summer night John told Martha to get her guitar, while he saddledTexas and his own pony for a ride. In a few moments they were gallopingover the prairie on their way to a cow-boy camp about three miles away.When they reached it, they found all the five men, but one, rolled upfrom top to toe in their tarpaulins, and asleep on the prairie. The onewho was awake welcomed them in effusive cow-boy style, and then with a"Wake up, you-uns! Yar's John Fredding an' 'is little woman!" kickedeach of his sleeping companions into consciousness with his foot. Theywere all glad to see John and Martha, for they knew them of old.
In the twinkling of an eye the smoldering fire was livened into a cheeryblaze, the visitors' ponies were picketed, and the men were groupedaround Martha and the fire. For a little while John talked businesswith them; but, before long, one of the men arose and, deferentiallytaking off his broad hat to Martha, asked her if she wouldn't give thema "chune." The music of her guitar was indescribably sweet, there in thelittle oasis of light in the prairie's desert of darkness, and for atime the men sat silently, with their hands clasped about their knees,enjoying it. Then she struck into a rollicking cow-boy song, and theyjoined in shouting it out. It is a favorite among the cow-boys ofsouthern Texas, and begins thus:
I'd rather hear a rattler rattle, I'd rather do a Greaser battle, I'd rather buck stampeding cattle, Than Than to Than to fight Than to fight the bloody In-ji-ans.
I'd rather eat a pan of dope, I'd rather ride without a rope, I'd rather from this country lope, Than Than to Than to fight Than to fight the bloody In-ji-ans.
After that came "I'm Gwine Back to Dixie," and "'Way Down Upon theSuwanee River," and then John said it was time to start home again. Loudwere the protests of the cow-boys, and when John and Martha went, thewhole party went with them except one man, who was left to watch thecattle. They were "full of sing," as one of them put it, and it was ajolly ride back to the ranch. When it was finally reached, the cow-boysgave them a "send-off" that could have been heard a mile away. Theyshouted and yelled like the wild "In-ji-ans" they had sung about, and asthey wheeled around to gallop back to camp, they fired all the chargesin their revolvers into the air as a parting courtesy. Then there was amad scamper of horses' hoofs, the yells grew fainter, and the cow-boyswere gone.
When John went into the house he found two letters which had beenbrought up by some passing friend from Amarilla. One of them was from anold schoolmate of his, who had become a profes
sor in a Northern college,asking for some loco-weed, to be added to the college botanicalcollection. The other was from Scylla's father, saying that if it wouldbe convenient he would bring his little daughter out to the ranch in afew days for a long-promised visit to Martha. This second letter sentMartha to bed a very happy little girl.
Several days passed before Scylla arrived at the ranch; but when she didcome there was great rejoicing. After she was comfortably ensconced inher wheeled chair on the porch, she held a mimic reception. John andMartha did the honors, and every human being within call was introducedto the little invalid. In the store there were a dozen leather-deckedcow-boys, and Scylla felt quite like a queen as each one scrambled up toher, and with his broad sombrero in one hand took her tiny fingers inthe other as he turned red and tried to say something polite. Nor didher impromptu court end with that. After the introductions were over,all the visitors sat down on the porch or the grass before it, whileMartha exhibited her pets to her friend. Gitter, the calf, was putthrough all his tricks, the cat was placed in Scylla's poor little arms,where he purred contentedly, and the dog chased sticks thrown by whoevercould find any to throw. After Gitter had been led away, Martha came upfrom the stables with her two horses--Texas and Dan. Big black Dan wasinclined to frisk a bit and jump about at the unusual scene; butlittle Texas worked his way right into Scylla's heart by marchingsteadily and straight up to her, despite Martha's laughing pulls on thelariat looped about his neck. With ears pricked forward, he madefriendly overtures to the new-comer on the spot. He poked his nose intoher lap and rubbed it against her hands and ate sugar from her fingers.
MARTHA RIDES DAN OVER THE HURDLE.]
"Oh, I wish I could ride him!" said Scylla.
"He never was so cordial before, not even with me," said Martha.
Then she suddenly thought of something, and after intrusting her horsesto one of the cow-boys, went and talked it over in whispers with herbrother, Scylla's father, and the doctor, who had been discussingpolitics together on one end of the porch. After this mysteriousconversation had lasted a little while, Martha danced back to Scylla, sohappy that she "just _had_ to hop."
"Oh, Scylla!" she exclaimed, "you _can_ ride him. Your papa says so andthe doctor says so and Brother says so. John is going to fix up one ofmy saddles for you with an extra strap to keep you from falling, andTexas likes you so much he will be gentle and careful as he can be, Iknow. And the doctor says he thinks it will do you good, if John and Ikeep close by you all the time, so there won't be any danger."
The following days at the ranch were very pleasant ones for Martha andher visitor. In the morning after the work was done--Martha always didsome of the light house duties--they would watch with never-flagginginterest the great herds of cattle as they were driven on their way forshipment from Amarilla, and gossip as girls do. Sometimes the cattlepassed quite near to the house, but oftener they were half a mile ormore away on the prairie--sometimes so far that the great herds seemedto be mere black blots moving over the dun brown of the Texas grass.
Every afternoon the two girls went riding, escorted either by John orone of the men employed about the ranch. John had fixed one of Martha'ssaddles so that poor little Scylla could not fall, and Texas seemed tobear his tiny burden with more than ordinary care. At first they rodevery slowly, and for only a few moments at a time; but Scylla gainedstrength daily, and by the end of the second week had improved so muchthat she could ride for an hour without great fatigue, and Texas wasoccasionally allowed to start his gentle gallop.
It was as they were returning from one of these rides that Scylla'ssharp eyes spied the figure of a horseman rushing out to them from theranch. He waved his hat and yelled, firing his revolver between whoopsand generally conducted himself like a madman. Martha recognized him atonce.
"It's One-eyed Saylo," she said. "He always acts like that--he thinks itwouldn't be showing proper respect to a lady unless he wasted half adozen cartridges and showed off his horsemanship."
Saylo acknowledged his introduction to Scylla with great ceremony, andthen told John that he had come to bring the loco-weed for the collegeprofessor. By dint of much searching and hard riding he had gathered agunny-sack full of it.
Then, as they rode slowly toward the ranch, he told John how the cattlein the whole region seemed to be getting "panicky." All the cow-boys hehad met had had the same story to tell. It was only by the most carefulhandling that they were able to keep their herds from stampeding.
By this time the little cavalcade had reached the ranch. After Scyllahad been lifted from the saddle and carried to her seat on the porch,Martha, full of the irrepressible good spirits of a healthy girl, had along frolic with her big black horse. She took his saddle off, and lethim enjoy the luxury of a long roll on the grass, and then she made himdo all his tricks. First he shook hands with great dignity--"just toshow that this was friendly fun," Martha said. Then she replaced thesaddle, clambered to its easy seat, and put him through his paces. Hewalked, slow and stately, with much self-consciousness, as a realSpanish horse should; he trotted, he loped, he paced, and wentsingle-foot, greatly to the admiration of the three spectators. Marthakept her seat with perfect ease and grace.
Two posts near the house Martha had turned into the uprights of ajumping-hurdle with bars which could be placed at various heights. Overthese bars that afternoon, Dan, with Martha sticking to his back like aburr, jumped many times, surpassing, to the delight of both girls, hisprevious best record.
John, in the meantime, was busy in the shop, where One-eyed Saylo hadfollowed him to gossip with the workmen about the all-absorbing topic ofsaddles and bridles. Martha had finished her fun, led Dan away andpicketed him, and was sitting by Scylla's side talking about that happyday when health and strength should have come back to the preacher'slittle daughter, when the men came out again. The gunny-sack ofloco-weed was lying at the side of the porch, and both girls watchedJohn and Saylo with interest as they shook out and examined itscontents.
"So they all want some of this stuff to look at an' study, up No'th, dothey?" said Saylo, and added: "I reckon we-all wouldn't be soover-flowin' with grief ef they'd take all th' loco thar is in th' Stateo' Texas."
Just then the Welsh servant blew loud and long on a great tin horn, andthey all went in to supper. Saylo and John had picketed their ponies,Saylo intending to ride in to Amarilla that night, and John having inview a visit to the camp of cow-boys four or five miles away. Martha hadtethered Texas near the other ponies, because he was "such a sociablelittle beast."
It was nearing sundown when supper was over. One-eyed Saylo vaulted intohis saddle after elaborate good-bys and went off toward Amarilla in awild canter, and John prepared to start off on his saddle mission to thecow-boys. His pony and Texas stood with heads hanging dejectedly down,close together, as far away from the house as their long lariats wouldlet them go, when John, carrying on his arm a new saddle that he wantedto try, went toward them. As he walked away from the house he calledcheerily: "Come, Mattie,--want to go along?"
"Oh, no; I'll stay here with Scylla to-night," she answered.
"Why can't she go too?--it's too nice an evening to stay at home. I'llride as slow as you like, and it isn't far."
Both girls were delighted at this.
"Isn't he good to poor little me!" Scylla exclaimed to Martha as Johnfixed her on Texas's back.
Martha ran around, brought Dan, and in a very few moments they wereriding leisurely toward the setting sun.
* * * * *
The evening was perfect. As the great, clean-cut disk of the sun droppedslowly below the far-off edge of the prairie, the breeze that had beenbusy all day rustling the prairie-grass died away, and the silence wasso complete that they all stopped involuntarily "to listen to it." Theyhad ridden until they were three or four miles from the ranch, whenthey paused again, this time to hear the crooning of far-away cow-boys.They were between two great herds of cattle. One, on the left, was halfa mile away; an
d the moon, which now shed a great white light over theprairie showed it only as a black mass. Those cattle had been "bedded"for the night--that is, two cow-boys had ridden around and around themdriving them closer together so that they would be easy to watch, andmuch less likely to be restless. The other herd was a little nearer, andthe cow-boys were bedding it as the trio from the ranch approached. Thecamp-fire flickered between the riders and the herd, and its flaringlight seemed to make the cow-boys and cattle nearest it lurch back andforward in and out of the gloom while their changing shadows dancedfantastically over the prairie. Here the three riders paused again tolisten. Closer by, the cow-boys' crooning would have sounded harsh andunmusical, but at this distance it shaped itself into a plaintive, minormelody that was very pleasing. For many moments they waited and enjoyedit in silence. Then suddenly a quick gust of wind and a low, mutteringrumble of thunder made them turn quickly and look at the sky behindthem.
A bank of dead black clouds was rising on the eastern horizon.
John stopped, gazed at it ruefully for a moment, and said:
"There's a big thunder-storm coming; but we can get home all rightbefore it strikes us. You girls ride slowly back. I'll rush to the campand tell the boys to stop in in the morning. I'll overtake you beforeyou've gone far."
With that he was off at a brisk canter toward the herd.
Martha and Scylla did as he told them. The rising but still distantclouds, lighted on their edges by the moon, added greatly to the beautyof the night, and both the girls appreciated the sight. They walkedtheir horses and talked girlish nonsense. John had promised to takeMartha to the North the next winter, and she told Scylla some of thewonderful things she had heard about the great cities and the curiousthings to be seen up there.
Suddenly Scylla interrupted her with:
"Martha, I believe there's something the matter with Texas--he'strembling all over."
"Oh, I guess not," said Martha; "he's just tired. Texas has had apretty hard day of it. But yet, he doesn't often get tired."
She rode up close to Scylla and put her hand on Texas's neck. It was wetwith sweat, although he had hardly gone faster than a walk since he hadleft the ranch.
And, sure enough, he _was_ trembling slightly.
"There is something the matter with him, I know," said Scylla.
"Stop a minute and take my reins; I'll get off and see what it is," saidMartha. "You're right. Texas is trembling like a leaf. Perhaps we'dbetter wait here for John."
There was an anxious little quaver in her voice as she dismounted and,going in front of Texas, took his head between her hands. There was nolonger any doubt that the horse was sick, and very sick. His eyes closedsleepily, and his head dropped low. Then he suddenly began to sway andtotter on his feet.
"Oh, Martha, I'm afraid!" cried Scylla.
Martha was badly frightened, too, but she acted instead of sayinganything. She rushed to Scylla's side and hastily unbuckled the strapsthat held the weak little body in the saddle.
"Quick, jump into my arms!" she commanded as the last buckle felljinglingly downward and Texas gave another alarming sidewise lurch. Withmore strength than she supposed she had, she half lifted, half pulledScylla out of the saddle and eased her, almost fainting, to the ground.It was none too soon, for in an instant more Texas had fallen with agroan and lay quiet on the prairie.
This lasted only for a few seconds; then with an unsteady stagger thelittle horse scrambled to his feet. For another instant he stood quiet;then he began to tremble again and looked around toward the girls. Butthe pony's eyes had changed; they were wild and blood-shot. With a madsnort he started off on a wild run into the gloom.
For a moment the girls were too surprised to speak. Scylla wassobbing on the ground, and Martha stood by her. She had the reinsof Dan's bridle in her hand, and gazed dumfounded after therapidly-disappearing Texas. Finally she turned to her companion:
"Oh, Scylla," she said, "I'm so glad I got you off his back!"
"What do you think is the matter with him?" Scylla asked.
"I can't imagine, unless--yes, that's it--he's locoed! Oh, my poorlittle Texas! My dear, gentle little pony! You ate that loco-weed Saylobrought for the college professor!"
Now Martha was crying, too, for she knew that her pony was lost to her.
"They--they left it lying by the porch," she went on, "and--you ate itwhile we were at supper. Oh, my little Texas!"
Martha had forgotten everything but her grief, but soon she rememberedthat there was a storm coming and that Scylla must be taken home in someway. At first she tried to lift her to Dan's high back, but she was notstrong enough. Then she thought of his education, and commanded him tolie down. He was nervous and excited and did not, at first, obey her,but finally she coaxed him into getting down on his knees. Then, withgreat pains and trouble, she pulled and lifted Scylla into the saddle.As Dan struggled to his feet again, it was hard work to keep the littleinvalid from falling, but it was done. Then Martha led him slowly towardthe ranch. The exciting events that had just passed had made hernervous, and for the first time in a long while she felt afraid.
"Oh, I wish John would hurry and catch up with us!" she exclaimed."Please don't fall, Scylla--hang on to the pommel tight."
Scylla, who had stopped crying, told Martha not to worry, that she wouldnot fall; and the slow journey over the prairie continued silently for aminute or two. Every once in a while Martha turned back and lookedtoward the flickering camp-fire of the cow-boys. An exclamation ofsurprise was drawn from her when she failed to see it shining in thedistance, and she stopped. Then, faintly, she heard shouts and thethumping of racing hoofs on the prairie.
"John is coming at last," she said.
But then she realized that more than one animal's hoofs were drummingdesperately on the turf. While she stood wondering if some of thecow-boys were coming home with John, she heard the hoof-beats merge intoa steady roar. Even the shouts of the men which she had just heard weredrowned in this dull, threatening rumble. For just an instant shethought it was thunder, and then her quick reasoning told her the truth.
The herd had stampeded!
That she and Scylla were directly in its path she was certain, for thecamp-fire had, a moment before, been between them and the herd andwas now invisible. It had either been trampled out or was hidden by theadvancing mass of cattle.
"JUST THEN ANOTHER FLASH CAME AND SHOWED A COW-BOYLEANING FAR OVER THE NECK OF HIS PONY, RIDING FOR HIS LIFE."]
Martha well knew what it meant to be in the path of a stampede; but,strangely enough, all her fear left her. She was puzzled, that was all.Had she been alone, she could easily have escaped by jumping on Dan'sback and riding hard. Dan could have distanced the cattle, even whenthey were stampeding. But now she had helpless Scylla to take care of.
The advancing thunder-clouds had wholly hidden the moon and put theprairie in inky darkness. At first Martha thought of starting Dan awaywith Scylla and trusting to Providence to keep the little invalid on hisback, while she remained to face the danger alone; then she thought oftrying to ride with her. But she knew Scylla could not possibly keep herplace in the saddle of the horse while he ran, even if she herselfshould mount him too and try to hold Scylla on.
She stepped back to Scylla's side. There was a deathly doubt in herheart as to whether she was doing the right thing; but she had made adesperate resolve. Scylla had heard the thunder of the approaching herdtoo, and was too frightened to speak. Martha held her arms up towardher just as the first flash of lightning came.
"Come, Scylla," she said, "slide off into my arms. The herd hasstampeded and is coming toward us, but I will try to save us both."
Without a word Scylla did as she was told, and in a few seconds was halfkneeling, half lying on the ground.
Then Martha struck Dan as hard as she could with her flat hand.
"Hey up, Dan!" said she, "run! run! _You_ needn't stay here, too!"
The horse galloped off into the darkness.
Just t
hen another lighting-flash came and showed a cow-boy leaning farover the neck of his pony, riding for his life. He passed only a dozenyards from them, but did not see them. Behind him Martha could dimly seetwo or three other riders coming toward them at desperate speed, whilestill beyond she caught a glimpse of the tossing horns and lurchingheads of the cattle.
Without a moment for thought, and as coolly as if she had nothing in theworld to fear, she bent over trembling Scylla, unfastened the waistbandof her dress-skirt and pulled it deftly from under her. Then she quicklyremoved her own and took one of the bright-colored garments in eachhand.
Just then the storm broke furiously. The night was suddenly lighted bylightning-flashes that followed one another so closely they seemed tomake one long, lasting flare. The cow-boys had all passed, and Marthasaw that the herd was scarcely two hundred yards away.
She stepped directly in front of Scylla's prostrate form and raised theskirts.
"Scream, Scylla, scream!" she cried.
Then, while the driving rain fell in torrents, and the lightning madethe prairie as light as day, she stood straight up and waved thoseskirts wildly about her head, and shouted at the top of her voice.
She was dimly conscious that her shouts shaped themselves into a prayerthat her brother was safe, and that the herd might divide and pass them.Her face was as pale as paper. Her long hair was tossed about by thewind, and by her own violent motions.
The foremost of the cattle was only a hundred yards away now. She couldsee the lightning shining on his horns and in his red, rolling eyes. Hewas coming straight toward her. Louder she shouted and more wildly sheswung the skirts. Would he crush her, or would he turn aside? She feltan almost overpowering impulse to turn and run away, but that would meancertain death. Her only hope was to keep her position firmly, and toswing her skirts and scream. If the first steer swerved and passed her,his followers might do so too.
He seemed of mammoth proportions as he lurched toward her. His head waslowered, and his great hoofs pounded the ground like trip-hammers.Closer! Closer! He was not twenty feet away. His big, crazy eyes seemedto look straight into hers. Closer! Closer!--Then he changed his coursea trifle. In an instant he had passed her like a great fury. Others wereonly a few feet behind him, and back of them was the compact mass of theherd. She screamed louder and redoubled her waving. The thunder in theheavens, and the thunder of the hoofs, drowned her voice so that shecould not even hear it herself. A dozen cattle passed her. Fifty cattlepassed her. She was in the midst of the herd which seemed to make asolid, living wall on each side of her. The earth trembled beneath thehammering of the hoofs. Her throat seemed ready to burst, and she wascertain that no sound came from her lips. It seemed a long time sincethat first one had plunged toward her, but still the maddened beastsadvanced with lowered heads and lunging bodies. They did not seem toturn aside, and each instant she expected to be struck down and trampledunder their feet. She could not even try to scream any longer, but stillshe waved the skirts.
At last, slowly, she saw that the herd was thinning. Short gaps began toappear between the animals. She knew that the herd had nearly passed.Then the living walls on each side melted away behind her, and onlystragglers were left. Then these, too, were gone. The stampeding herdhad passed her, and she was still alive.
She turned dizzily toward Scylla.
The little invalid--the cripple--was standing straight up, close behindher. For a second Martha doubted her eyes. The storm still raged, andshe thought it was a vagary of the lightning. She held her hands out,though, and convinced herself that it was true. Scylla was standing onher feet, for the first time in many years. The two girls threw theirarms around each other, and sank to their knees on the prairie. As theysaid a prayer of thanks together, the uneven glare of the lightning,which had kept up almost uninterruptedly ever since a few seconds beforethe cattle reached them, died away. One or two feeble flashes followed,and then the storm had passed.
Martha took Scylla's face between her hands and kissed her. Then shesaid:
"Wasn't it awful?"
"Oh, Martha," Scylla answered, "I thought every second that we'd bekilled, but there you stood as brave as a lion, and waved those dressesright in the faces of the cattle. You saved both our lives. I lay hereon the ground for a minute after you took my skirt, and then I got up."
"You _got up_, Scylla! How could you, all alone?"
"I don't know, Martha, but I felt as if I _must_. I tried to rise once,and fell back. Then the cattle came and I tried again, and all theweakness seemed to be gone, and I stood right up behind you and stayedthere while the herd went by. I don't feel as I used to--I feel as ifthe paralysis had all gone. See, I can get up again,--don't helpme,--all alone."
And, sure enough, Scylla scrambled to her feet. She stood a littleunsteadily on them, but she stood. They were so glad it was true thatthey did not try to understand it.
After Scylla's new-found strength had been rejoiced over for a moment,they began to wonder how they could get home. They knew that they couldnot walk--Martha was terribly tired, and Scylla, even if she could standup, was not equal to the long tramp back to the ranch, of course. Theywere dripping wet. The elation that followed their escape, and thediscovery of Scylla's great good fortune, was followed by a nervousbreakdown on the part of both girls, and they cuddled in each other'sarms on the wet grass, sobbing and frightened, to wait for morning tocome.
Hardly half an hour had passed before they heard horses. Martha stood upand saw the shadowy form of a rider away off to the right. She tried toscream, but her overstrained voice was hoarse and husky. Scylla calledout as well as she could, but the horseman rode on. By and by theychanged their course, however, and came near enough for the girls tomake their presence known.
As the horses approached, Martha recognized in the foremost one the bigblack form of Dan. Her brother John was on his back, and with him weremen from the ranch.
There were tears in the eyes of the big men as they lifted the girls intheir arms, and started home. They had not expected to find them alive.
Before they went to sleep, the thrilling story of Martha's bravery hadbeen fully told, and to it had been added the news of Scylla's strangerecovery.
The next day the doctor was called in to see about it. He gravely shookhis head, and said it was strange, but that such things had happenedbefore. The great mental excitement of the stampede had wrought whatseemed a miracle.
Her recovery after that was rapid. When John and Martha went North thenext winter, Scylla went with them, and was able to walk about almost aseasily as Martha herself.
A few days after the stampede, the bruised body of poor Texas was foundwhere he had been trampled to death by the herd. What was left of theloco-weed that had wrought his ruin was burned, and the Northern collegeprofessor is still without his specimens.