She struck
into it boldly, and urged her horse to the top of his speed, until she
reached the cross road that led to the rancho. But here she paused and
allowed the reins to drop idly on the mustang's back. A singular and
unaccountable irresolution seized her. The difficulties of her journey
were over; the rancho lay scarcely two miles away; she had achieved
the most important part of her task in the appointed time, but she
hesitated. What had she come for? She tried to recall Poindexter's
words, even her own enthusiasm, but in vain. She was going to take
possession of her husband's property, she knew, that was all. But the
means she had taken seemed now so exaggerated and mysterious for that
simple end that she began to dread an impending something, or some vague
danger she had not considered, that she was rushing blindly to meet.
Full of this strange feeling she almost mechanically stopped her horse
as she entered the cross road.
From this momentary hesitation a singular sound aroused her. It seemed
at first like the swift hurrying by of some viewless courier of the
air, the vague alarm of some invisible flying herald, or like the
inarticulate cry that precedes a storm.
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