FROM BEND TO BURNS 59 



windings of our narrow road, but unless we made 

 in his direction we should leave him far in the 

 rear. He had measured the distance, too, for I saw 

 him bend in the saddle and the horse sink deeper 

 into the sage as it lay down to the race. He was go- 

 ing to miss us surely, for we were driving like the 

 wind. Then he snatched off his sombrero, waved 

 it over his head, pulled hard right to take us far- 

 ther down on a curve, and sent his horse at a 

 dead run over a ridge of lava stones, a run to 

 rob the rest of my automobile journey of all its 

 terrors. 



Our car slowed down, as the rider, a cowboy, 

 lurched into the road. 



" I 've a dying man in here " he began, 

 jerking his hand toward a shanty off in the sage. 

 "Will you take him to the doctor in Burns?" 



The driver did not open his mouth, but turned 

 and looked at us. The car was crowded; both 

 running-boards were piled with traps and lug- 

 gage. 



" He J s dying of appendicitis," said the horse- 

 man. "An operation to-night might save him." 



The gray of the evening had already spread 

 over the desert, and at the ominous words it dark- 



