A strange fear filled the breast of the young hunter, Ned Campbell, as he dashed away over the prairie, his eyes riveted upon the point where he had last seen his friend in hot pursuit of the weird rider. And yet, had he attempted, he could not have given expression to this dread, in words. Something seemed to tell him that Fred Hawksley was running blindfold into a deadly peril—the more to be dreaded because unknown. That this strange woman was acting the part of a _decoy_. All the rumors that he had ever heard of her, now flashed across his mind. Until this night he had treated them with contempt, believing them mere fabrications, or else finding birth in a superstitious imagination. For six months past, that portion of Texas in and around the “Corners,” had been filled with wild rumors and stories in which a strange woman rider played a prominent part. In one thing all coincided, that the woman was young and bewilderingly lovely. In all else, the accounts differed. One day she was seen here—the next there, miles and miles away. Now she rode a spotted mustang of great beauty and fleetness; again a black—then a bright bay. Full twenty men, both young and old, solemnly affirmed that they had chased her, some upon horses famed for speed and endurance, but all declared that she had distanced them with seeming ease. None had ever gotten within speaking distance of her, until now Fred Hawksley declared that he had heard her voice. Where she lived, no one could tell. Certainly not in any house in the county, for close search had been made by more than one border youth whose impressible heart had been fired by the strange beauty. When seen, she was ever alone. All in all she was an enigma—and until now, Campbell had believed her a myth. Aside from his personal friendship for Fred, another inducement spurred Ned on. Rumor had it that the handsome hunter had surrendered his heart to fair Fannie Hawksley, Fred’s sister, and for once the owner was correct. When they set forth upon their hunt, Fannie laughingly bade him take good care of Fred, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness in her tones that Ned understood. He knew that Hawksley was rash and adventurous, even to foolhardiness when his blood was fairly aroused, and he had promised her to take care that he returned all right. He remembered his promise now, and it spurred him on, that and his faintly-defined presentiment of evil. Should any thing serious happen to Fred, how could he face Fannie? “Around that point I must catch sight of him,” he muttered, as he urged on his good horse. “Unless I mistake, I can see the prairie for ten miles from there, and surely I was not insensible long enough for them to cross that stretch? And once in sight, I can guard him against danger.”