A patch of moonlight brightened a little
glade just at the edge of dense shade cast by the cottonwood. Here the bench
stood. It was empty!
Slone's rapture vanished. He was suddenly chilled. She was not there! She
might have been intercepted. He would not see her. The disappointment, the
sudden relaxation, was horrible. Then a white, slender shape flashed from
beside the black tree-trunk and flew toward him. It was noiseless, like a
specter, and swift as the wind. Was he dreaming? He felt so strange. Then--the
white shape reached him and he knew.
Lucy leaped into his arms.
"Lin! Lin! Oh, I'm so--so glad to see you!" she whispered. She seemed
breathless, keen, new to him, not in the least afraid nor shy. Slone could
only hold her. He could not have spoken, even if she had given him a chance.
"I know everything--what they accuse you of--how the riders treated you--how
my dad struck you. Oh! . . . He's a brute! I hate him for that. Why didn't you
keep out of his way? . . . Van saw it all. Oh, I hate him, too! He said you
lay still--where you fell! .
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