She knew that she would be afraid to go
into the black maw of the silent building for her horse and yet she knew
that she must, that she must mount and ride.... She had never until now
known the terror of being alone, utterly alone in the night and the
wilderness.
Suddenly she stopped to stare incredulously. About a corner of the barn,
coming out into the bright moonlight, leading his own horse and her own,
was Buck Thornton. She was so certain that he had gone! For the instant
she could not move but stood powerless to lift a hand, rooted to the
spot. She noted that his face was unhidden now, his black hat pushed
far back on his head, while from his hip pocket trailed the end of a
handkerchief which may and may not have had slits let in it for his eyes
to peer through.
"You ... here? Yet?" she found herself stammering at him.
"Yes," he answered heavily. "I have been all this time looking for the
horses. The corral was broken; they had gotten out into the pasture."
"A likely tale!" she cried with a sudden heat of passionate fury at the
man and his cold manner and his mad thought that she was fool enough to
be beguiled from her knowledge of what he was. And then a fresh fear
made her draw back and widened her eyes.
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