This was the stage in which Beth at length began to meditate on Spartan remedies.  The situation was not to be endured.  No word had come from Searle.  The world might have swallowed him up.  She was sick of him—­sick of his ways of neglect.  And as for Van——­

There was no one to whom she could turn—­unless it were Glen.  If only she could flee to her brother!  She thought about it earnestly.  She tried to plan the way.

Her horse was at the hay-yard.  Starlight was only one day off in the desert.  The convicts were no longer about.  If only she could ride there—­even alone!  An early start—­a little urging of the pony—­she could fancy the journey accomplished with the utmost ease; then scornful defiance, both of Bostwick and of Van.

But a woman—­riding in this lawless land alone!  She was utterly disheartened, disillusionized at the thought.  It would be no less than madness.  And yet, it seemed as if she must presently go.  Searle’s silence, coupled to conditions here, was absolutely intolerable.

With plans decidedly hazy—­nothing but a wild, bright dream really clear—­she questioned Billy Stitts concerning the roads.  He was familiar with every route in miles, whether roadway, trail, or “course by compass,” as he termed trackless cruising in the desert.  He gave her directions with the utmost minutae of detail as to every highway to Starlight.  He drew her a plan.  She was sure that she could almost ride to Starlight in the dark.  What branches of the road to shun, which trails to choose, possibly, for gaining time, what places to water a famishing horse—­all these and more she learned with feverish interest.

“Now a man would do this,” and “a man would do that,” said Billy time after time, till a new, fantastic notion came bounding full-fledged into Beth’s anxious brain and almost made her laugh with delight.  She could dress as a man and ride as a man and be absolutely safe on the journey!  She knew a dozen unusual arts for dying the skin and concealing the hair and making the hands look rough.  Make-up in private theatricals, at professional hands, she had learned with exceptional thoroughness.

She would need a suit of kahki, miners’ books, a soft, big hat, and flannel shirt.  They were all to be had at the store.  She could order her horse to be saddled for a man.  She could readily dress and escape unseen from the house.  In a word, she could do the trick!

The plan possessed her utterly.  It sent her blood bounding through her veins.  Her face was flushed with excitement.  She loved adventure—­and this would be something to do!

Nevertheless, despite all her plans, she had no real intention of attempting a scheme so mad.  Subconsciously she confessed to herself it was just the merest idle fancy, not a thing to be actually ventured, or even entertained.

That night, when she was more beset, more worried than before, however, desperation was increasing upon her.  The plan she had made no longer seemed the mere caprice of one in pursuit of pleasure—­it appeared to be the only possible respite from conditions no longer to be borne.