No dust, no heat, no wind--a clear, blue, cloudless
sky, sweet odors in the still air--it was a beautiful time.
Days passed and nights passed, as if on wings. Every waking hour
drew him closer to this incomparable girl who had arisen upon his
horizon like a star. He knew the hour was imminent when he must read
his heart. He fought it off; he played with his bliss. Allie was now
his shadow instead of the faithful Larry, although the cowboy was
often with them, adapting himself to the changed conditions, too big
and splendid to be envious or jealous. They fished down the brook,
and always at the never-to-be-forgotten ford he would cross first
and turn to see her follow. She could never understand why Neale
would delight in carrying her across at other points, yet made her
ford this one by herself.
"It's such a bother to take off moccasins and leggings," she would
say.
They rode horseback up and down the trails that Slingerland assured
them were safe. And it was the cowboy Larry who lent his horse and
taught her a flying mount; he said she would make a rider.
In the afternoons they would climb the high ridge, and on the summit
sit in the long whitening grass and gaze out over the dim and purple
vastness of the plains. In the twilight they walked under the pines.
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