ee the man who was
to win her, not in stuffy rooms, not dressed in stiff, ungainly
clothes, not saying unmeaning things to fill the time. This tale of
laborious days bounded by the fires of sunrise and sunset, this
struggle with the primal forces of storm and flood, this passage across
a panorama unrolling in ever wilder majesty, was the setting for her
love idyl. The joy of her mounting spirit broke out in an answering
cry that flew across the river to David like the call of an animal to
its mate.

She watched them yoking on Bess and Ben and men and animals bracing
their energies for the start. David drove the horses, walking beside
them, the reins held loose in hands that made upward, urging gestures
as the team breasted the ascent. It was a savage pull. The valiant
little mules bent their necks, the horses straining, iron muscled,
hoofs grinding down to the solid clay. The first charge carried them
half way up, then there was a moment of slackened effort, a relaxing,
recuperative breath, and the wagon came to a standstill. Leff ran for
the back, shouting a warning. The branch he thrust under the wheel was
ground to splinters and the animals grew rigid in their effort to
resist the backward drag.

Leff gripped the wheel, cursing, his hands knotted round the spokes,
his back taut and muscle-ridged under the thin shirt. The cracked
voice of Daddy John came from beyond the canvas hood and David's urgent
cries filled the air. The mules, necks outstretched, almost squatting
in the agony of their endeavor, held their ground, but could do no
more. Bess and Ben began to plunge in a welter of slapping harness as
the wheels ground slowly downward.

Susan watched, her neck craned, her eyes staring. Her sentimental
thoughts had vanished. She was one with the struggling men and beasts,
lending her vigor to theirs. Her eyes were on David, waiting to see
him dominate them like a general carrying his troops to victory. She
could see him, arms outstretched, haranguing his horses as if they were
human beings, but not using the whip. A burst of astonishing profanity
came from Leff and she heard him cry:

"Lay it on to 'em, David. What's the matter with you? Beat 'em like
hell."

The mule drivers used a long-lashed whip which could raise a welt on
the thickest hide. David flung the lash afar and brought it down on
Ben's back. The horse leaped as if he had been burned, jerking ahead
of his mate, and rearing in a