"
"Yes," he replied, swiftly.
Lucy settled herself in the saddle and, shortening the bridle, she got ready
to spur Sarchedon into a bolt.
"Lin, I'll accept Wildfire because I love you."
Sarchedon leaped forward. Lucy did not see Slone's face nor hear him speak.
Then she was tearing through the sage, out past the whistling Wildfire, with
the wind sweet in her face. She did not look back.
CHAPTER XI
All through May there was an idea, dark and sinister, growing in Bostil's
mind. Fiercely at first he had rejected it as utterly unworthy of the man he
was. But it returned. It would not be denied. It was fostered by singular and
unforeseen circumstances. The meetings with Creech, the strange, sneaking
actions of young Joel Creech, and especially the gossip of riders about the
improvement in Creech's swift horse--these things appeared to loom larger and
larger and to augment in Bostil's mind the monstrous idea which he could not
shake off. So he became brooding and gloomy.
It appeared to be an indication of his intense preoccupation of mind that he
seemed unaware of Lucy's long trips down into the sage.
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