stance, serrated
cliffs against the horizon, not blue, but rosy pink in the heated haze
of the air, and perhaps a great, lonely eagle poised above the silent,
brilliant waste.
He told it not in book language, with turn of phrase and smoothly
flowing sentences, but in simple, frank words, as a boy might describe a
picture to one he knew would appreciate it--for her sake, and not
because he loved to put it into words; but in a new, stumbling way
letting out the beauty that had somehow crept into his heart in spite of
all the rough attempts to keep all gentle things out of his nature.
The girl, as she listened, marveled more and more what manner of youth
this might be who had come to her out of the desert night.
She forgot her weariness as she listened, in the thrill of wonder over
the new mysterious country to which she had come. She forgot that she
was riding through the great darkness with an utter stranger, to a place
she knew not, and to experiences most dubious. Her fears had fled and
she was actually enjoying herself, and responding to the wonderful story
of the place with soft-murmured exclamations of delight and wonder.
From time to time in the distance there sounded forth those awful
blood-curdling howls of wild beasts that she had heard when she sat
alone by the water-tank, and each time she heard a shudder passed
through her and instinctively she swerved a trifle toward her companion,
then straightened up again and tried to seem not to notice. The Boy saw
and watched her brave attempts at self-control with deep appreciation.
But suddenly, as they rode and talked, a dark form appeared across their
way a little ahead, lithe and stealthy and furry, and two awful eyes
like green lamps glared for an instant, then disappeared silently among
the mesquite bushes.
She did not cry out nor start. Her very veins seemed frozen with horror,
and she could not have spoken if she tried. It was all over in a second
and the creature gone, so that she almost doubted her senses and
wondered if she had seen aright. Then one hand went swiftly to her
throat and she shrank toward her companion.
"There is nothing to fear," he said, reassuringly, and laid a strong
hand comfortingly across the neck of her horse. "The pussy-cat was as
unwilling for our company as we for hers. Besides, look here!"--and he
raised his hand and shot into the air. "She'll not come near us now."
"I am not afraid!" said the girl, bravely. "At least,
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