She would compel her father to pay Creech horse
for horse. And perhaps the lesson to Bostil would be worth all the pain of
effort and distress of mind that it had cost her.
That night as she lay awake listening to the roar of the wind in the pines a
strange premonition--like a mysterious voice---came to her with the assurance
that Slone was on her trail.
On the following day Creech appeared to have cast off the brooding mood.
Still, he was not talkative. He applied himself to constant watching from the
rim.
Lucy began to feel rested. That long trip with Creech had made her thin and
hard and strong. She spent the hours under the shade of a cedar on the rim
that protected her from sun and wind. The wind, particularly, was hard to
stand. It blew a gale out of the west, a dry, odorous, steady rush that roared
through the pine-tops and flattened the long, white grass. This day Creech had
to build up a barrier of rock round his camp-fire, to keep it from blowing
away. And there was a constant danger of firing the grass.
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