"Let's walk to the side track, it's only a little way."

Alice pointed to where the flagman stood beside the open switch.
Endicott nodded acquiescence and as he turned to follow, the girl's
handkerchief dropped from her hand and, before it touched the ground,
was caught by a gust of wind that swept beneath the coaches and whirled
out onto the flat where it lay, a tiny square of white against the
trampled buffalo grass.

Endicott started to retrieve it, but before he had taken a half-dozen
steps there was a swift pounding of hoofs and two horses shot out from
the group of cowboys and dashed at full speed, their riders low in the
saddle and each with his gaze fixed on the tiny bit of white fabric.
Nose and nose the horses ran, their hoofs raising a cloud of white
alkali dust in their wake. Suddenly, just as they reached the
handkerchief, the girl who watched with breathless interest gasped.
The saddles were empty! From the madly racing horses her glance flew
to the cloud of dust which concealed the spot where a moment before had
lain that little patch of white. Her fingers clenched as she steeled
herself to the sight of the two limp, twisted forms that the lifting
dust cloud must reveal. Scarcely daring to wink she fixed her eyes
upon the ground--but the dust cloud had drifted away and there were no
limp, twisted forms. Even the little square of white was gone. In
bewilderment she heard cries of approval and loud shouts of applause
from the passengers. Once more her ears caught the sound of pounding
hoofs, and circling toward her in a wide curve were the two riders,
erect and firm in their saddles, as a gauntleted hand held high a
fluttering scrap of white.