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- Артур Конан Дойл
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As
year
succeeded
to
year
she
grew
taller
and
stronger
,
her
cheek
more
rudy
,
and
her
step
more
elastic
.
Many
a
wayfarer
upon
the
high
road
which
ran
by
Ferrier
's
farm
felt
long-forgotten
thoughts
revive
in
their
mind
as
they
watched
her
lithe
girlish
figure
tripping
through
the
wheatfields
,
or
met
her
mounted
upon
her
father
's
mustang
,
and
managing
it
with
all
the
ease
and
grace
of
a
true
child
of
the
West
.
So
the
bud
blossomed
into
a
flower
,
and
the
year
which
saw
her
father
the
richest
of
the
farmers
left
her
as
fair
a
specimen
of
American
girlhood
as
could
be
found
in
the
whole
Pacific
slope
.
It
was
not
the
father
,
however
,
who
first
discovered
that
the
child
had
developed
into
the
woman
.
It
seldom
is
in
such
cases
.
That
mysterious
change
is
too
subtle
and
too
gradual
to
be
measured
by
dates
.
Least
of
all
does
the
maiden
herself
know
it
until
the
tone
of
a
voice
or
the
touch
of
a
hand
sets
her
heart
thrilling
within
her
,
and
she
learns
,
with
a
mixture
of
pride
and
of
fear
,
that
a
new
and
a
larger
nature
has
awoken
within
her
.
There
are
few
who
can
not
recall
that
day
and
remember
the
one
little
incident
which
heralded
the
dawn
of
a
new
life
.
In
the
case
of
Lucy
Ferrier
the
occasion
was
serious
enough
in
itself
,
apart
from
its
future
influence
on
her
destiny
and
that
of
many
besides
.
It
was
a
warm
June
morning
,
and
the
Latter
Day
Saints
were
as
busy
as
the
bees
whose
hive
they
have
chosen
for
their
emblem
.
In
the
fields
and
in
the
streets
rose
the
same
hum
of
human
industry
.
Down
the
dusty
high
roads
defiled
long
streams
of
heavily-laden
mules
,
all
heading
to
the
west
,
for
the
gold
fever
had
broken
out
in
California
,
and
the
Overland
Route
lay
through
the
City
of
the
Elect
.
There
,
too
,
were
droves
of
sheep
and
bullocks
coming
in
from
the
outlying
pasture
lands
,
and
trains
of
tired
immigrants
,
men
and
horses
equally
weary
of
their
interminable
journey
.
Through
all
this
motley
assemblage
,
threading
her
way
with
the
skill
of
an
accomplished
rider
,
there
galloped
Lucy
Ferrier
,
her
fair
face
flushed
with
the
exercise
and
her
long
chestnut
hair
floating
out
behind
her
.
She
had
a
commission
from
her
father
in
the
City
,
and
was
dashing
in
as
she
had
done
many
a
time
before
,
with
all
the
fearlessness
of
youth
,
thinking
only
of
her
task
and
how
it
was
to
be
performed
.
The
travel-stained
adventurers
gazed
after
her
in
astonishment
,
and
even
the
unemotional
Indians
,
journeying
in
with
their
pelties
,
relaxed
their
accustomed
stoicism
as
they
marvelled
at
the
beauty
of
the
pale-faced
maiden
.
She
had
reached
the
outskirts
of
the
city
when
she
found
the
road
blocked
by
a
great
drove
of
cattle
,
driven
by
a
half-dozen
wild-looking
herdsmen
from
the
plains
.
In
her
impatience
she
endeavoured
to
pass
this
obstacle
by
pushing
her
horse
into
what
appeared
to
be
a
gap
.
Scarcely
had
she
got
fairly
into
it
,
however
,
before
the
beasts
closed
in
behind
her
,
and
she
found
herself
completely
imbedded
in
the
moving
stream
of
fierce-eyed
,
long-horned
bullocks
.
Accustomed
as
she
was
to
deal
with
cattle
,
she
was
not
alarmed
at
her
situation
,
but
took
advantage
of
every
opportunity
to
urge
her
horse
on
in
the
hopes
of
pushing
her
way
through
the
cavalcade
.
Unfortunately
the
horns
of
one
of
the
creatures
,
either
by
accident
or
design
,
came
in
violent
contact
with
the
flank
of
the
mustang
,
and
excited
it
to
madness
.
In
an
instant
it
reared
up
upon
its
hind
legs
with
a
snort
of
rage
,
and
pranced
and
tossed
in
a
way
that
would
have
unseated
any
but
a
most
skilful
rider
.
The
situation
was
full
of
peril
.
Every
plunge
of
the
excited
horse
brought
it
against
the
horns
again
,
and
goaded
it
to
fresh
madness
.
It
was
all
that
the
girl
could
do
to
keep
herself
in
the
saddle
,
yet
a
slip
would
mean
a
terrible
death
under
the
hoofs
of
the
unwieldy
and
terrified
animals
.
Unaccustomed
to
sudden
emergencies
,
her
head
began
to
swim
,
and
her
grip
upon
the
bridle
to
relax
.
Choked
by
the
rising
cloud
of
dust
and
by
the
steam
from
the
struggling
creatures
,
she
might
have
abandoned
her
efforts
in
despair
,
but
for
a
kindly
voice
at
her
elbow
which
assured
her
of
assistance
.
At
the
same
moment
a
sinewy
brown
hand
caught
the
frightened
horse
by
the
curb
,
and
forcing
a
way
through
the
drove
,
soon
brought
her
to
the
outskirts
.
"
You
're
not
hurt
,
I
hope
,
miss
,
"
said
her
preserver
,
respectfully
.
She
looked
up
at
his
dark
,
fierce
face
,
and
laughed
saucily
.
"
I
'm
awful
frightened
,
"
she
said
,
naively
;
"
whoever
would
have
thought
that
Poncho
would
have
been
so
scared
by
a
lot
of
cows
?
"
"
Thank
God
you
kept
your
seat
,
"
the
other
said
earnestly
.
He
was
a
tall
,
savage-looking
young
fellow
,
mounted
on
a
powerful
roan
horse
,
and
clad
in
the
rough
dress
of
a
hunter
,
with
a
long
rifle
slung
over
his
shoulders
.
"
I
guess
you
are
the
daughter
of
John
Ferrier
,
"
he
remarked
,
"
I
saw
you
ride
down
from
his
house
.
When
you
see
him
,
ask
him
if
he
remembers
the
Jefferson
Hopes
of
St.
Louis
.
If
he
's
the
same
Ferrier
,
my
father
and
he
were
pretty
thick
.
"
"
Had
n't
you
better
come
and
ask
yourself
?
"
she
asked
,
demurely
.
