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Updated: June 18, 2025
Oldring's band did not confine themselves to the rustling of cattle. Venters lay low in the shade of the cottonwoods, pondering this chance meeting, and not for many moments did he consider it safe to move on. Then, with sudden impulse, he turned the other way and went back along the grove. When he reached the path leading to Jane's home he decided to go down to the village.
Venters had abhorred her notoriety, but now he took passionate pride in her skill, her daring, her power over a horse. And he delved into his memory, recalling famous rides which he had heard related in the villages and round the camp-fires. Oldring's Masked Rider! Many times this strange rider, at once well known and unknown, had escaped pursuers by matchless riding.
When you remember that old life you are bitter, and it hurts me." "I was happy I shall be very happy. Oh, you're so good that that it kills me! If I think, I can't believe it. I grow sick with wondering why. I'm only a let me say it only a lost, nameless girl of the rustlers. Oldring's Girl, they called me. That you should save me be so good and kind want to make me happy why, it's beyond belief.
Like an Indian stealing horses he had skulked into the recesses of the canyons. He had found Oldring's retreat; he had killed a rustler; he had shot an unfortunate girl, then had saved her from this unwitting act, and he meant to save her from the consequent wasting of blood, from fever and weakness. Starvation he had to fight for her and for himself.
Then he smoothed out the crushed trail in grass and sage. The rustler's horse had stopped a quarter of a mile off and was grazing. When Venters rapidly strode toward the Masked Rider not even the cold nausea that gripped him could wholly banish curiosity. For he had shot Oldring's infamous lieutenant, whose face had never been seen. Venters experienced a grim pride in the feat.
"Son, tell me all about this," presently said Lassiter as he seated himself on a stone and wiped his moist brow. Thereupon Venters began his narrative at the point where he had shot the rustler and Oldring's Masked Rider, and he rushed through it, telling all, not holding back even Bess's unreserved avowal of her love or his deepest emotions. "That's the story," he said, concluding.
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