''Those Who Ride Straight" 



Alice, and the men below smoking and listening 

 to Trotter talk, for he was an intelligent chap and 

 had been nearly everywhere worth going. 



It was too good. We were all too light hearted, 

 too happy. It couldn't last. It ended, but not in 

 the usual way. No, not the least bit in the usual 

 way, 



Alice died. Died the way she always hoped 

 she would — in the field. She had no fear of death, 

 no fear of anything I ever knew of. She used to 

 say quite frankly she enjoyed life, but when the 

 end came she wanted to go out with a good horse 

 under her and the hoimds in full cry. 



In any one else it might have sounded cheap, 

 but not in Alice. We all knew she meant it, and 

 many is the time I have thought she'd have her 

 wish. She rode overwell, overhard for a woman. 



It wasn't far from where Trotter met Alice — 

 the Archer Farms. The gray mare simply pecked 

 badly at a big plank fence and went down. It 

 didn't look like a nasty fall. 



The mare was up in a flash and galloping off, 

 but Alice lay still. That frightened me. Trotter 

 and I reached her at almost the same time. She 

 was unconscious, but in a moment she opened her 

 eyes. 



Trotter had her head on his arm and was gazing 

 into her face. His lips moved, too, as if he were 

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