CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. " "Understand what?" "You or this girl. ” “You have not answered my question,” he reminded her. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. This fall saved him, for the horsemen passed over him. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. . "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. Then she saw him. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. "More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man. For so far she had kept it uncashed.
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