"Then something queer happened to me. You've seen a flash of sunlight reflected from a window, far off? Well, it wasn't like that, except in the sharpness of its effect. And I knew there was no house in all that waste of sand. It was just a flash, and was gone. I searched the horizon, and saw nothing but red dunes, and little puffs of sand kicked up by the rising wind. Must have been some trick of vision, I thought, and I looked away again toward the blood-red peaks. And there it was again, in the corner of my eye. But it was gone when I tried to fix it. I put spurs to my horse, and rode toward the dunes, and caught the flash again--just a bright yellow speck in the darkening vermilion. It came and went, and seemed then to have been lost completely. I was about convinced that the red sunset had gone to my head--that I was following something that existed only in my brain. "Then, as I loped up to the top of a dune--there he stood, on another dune, perhaps two hundred yards away. His golden hide reflected the red glow like polished metal, his mane flamed in the wind. You cannot possibly imagine the effect of it, in that unreal light, in that setting of desolation, with the crimson mountains behind him. He stood alone on the hill, with his head high, motionless as a statue. For as long as half a minute he let me look at him. Then he turned, and was gone like a flash of fire. I had just one more glimpse of him, flying over the dunes, and followed by a score or more of wild horses of all colors except his color, and none worth looking at. With him the red went out of the landscape, the peaks turned white, and I sat alone in the gray, raw twilight. But right there I made up my mind about one thing: I must have that horse. You know the rest." "But what do you mean to do with him?" asked Marion, vaguely troubled. "Ride him." "Don't!" she gasped. "Why not?" he demanded. "He'll kill you!" Haig laughed. "Oh, I think not!" "But what is the use?" "What's the use of anything?" "But it's--" "Mere folly, you think?" "Yes." "Now you don't mean that at all, Miss Gaylord. You know perfectly well that if I were doing it to please you--to win your admiration--you wouldn't call it folly." "You will please me--and win my admiration--if you don't do it. Please!" "But I don't want--You'll pardon me?--I don't want to win your admiration." What could she say to that? There was a moment of silence. "When?" she asked quietly. "I'm waiting for Farrish, my foreman. He's the only man I can absolutely depend upon. He's in Omaha. He'll be back next week." "And you won't begin without him?" "No." She had no choice but to be satisfied with a few days of grace. Moreover, something might happen before the return of Farrish; the outlaw might escape, or she might find another opportunity to plead with Haig, or--What was she thinking of? Something was going to happen that very evening; and she had almost forgotten it, in her absorption!