THE AMBUSH


Alaire Austin slept badly. The day's hardships had left their
traces. The toxins of fatigue not only poisoned her muscles with
aches and pains, but drugged her brain and rendered the night a
long succession of tortures during which she experienced for a
second time the agonies of thirst and fatigue and despair. Extreme
physical ordeals, like profound emotional upheavals, leave
imprints upon the brain, and while the body may recover quickly,
it often requires considerable time to rest exhausted nerves. The
finer the nervous organism, the slower is the process of
recuperation. Like most normal women, Alaire had a surprising
amount of endurance, both nervous and muscular, but, having drawn
heavily against her reserve force, she paid the penalty. During
the early hours of the night she slept hardly at all, and as soon
as her bodily discomfort began to decrease her mind became unruly.
Twice she rose and limped to the water-hole for a drink, and it
was not until nearly dawn that she dropped off into complete
unconsciousness. She was awakened by a sunbeam which pierced her
leafy shelter and with hot touch explored her upturned face.

It was still early; the sun had just cleared the valley's rim and
the ground was damp with dew. Somewhere near by an unfamiliar bird
was sweetly trilling. Alaire listened dreamily until the bird-
carol changed to the air of a familiar cowboy song, then she sat
up, queerly startled.

David Law was watering his horse, grooming the animal meanwhile
with a burlap doth. Such attention was unusual in a stock country