The two who had trembled upon the brink of some personal revelation, a closer communion, were not again alone together that evening. Amid the moving figures of the others, now to his eyes as painted automatons, Creed Bonbright watched with strong fascination in which there was a tincture that was almost terror, the beautiful girl who had suddenly emerged from her class and become for him the one woman.
So adequate, so competent, Judith dominated the situation; passing among her guests, the thick dark lashes continually lowered toward her crimson cheeks. Some subtle sense told her that the spell was working. Smiles from this sweet inner satisfaction curved her red lips. No need to look—she knew how his eyes were following her. The exultant knowledge of it sang all through her being. Gone were her perturbations, her chilling uncertainties. She was at once stimulated and quieted.
Their good-byes were said in the most public manner, yet one glance flashed between them which asked and promised an early meeting.
Chapter IX
Foeman’s Bluff
It was near midnight when Creed sought his patient mule at the rack, to find that Doss Provine had ridden the animal away.
“He said you was a-goin’ to stay at yo’ own house to-night, an’ he ’lowed ye wouldn’t need the mule, an’ he was mighty tired. He ’lowed hit was a mighty long ja’nt out to the Edge whar he was a-goin’,” contributed Blev Straley, who seemed to have been admitted to Provine’s confidence.
“Mighty long ja’nt—I say long ja’nt!” ejaculated old man Broyles, who was engaged in saddling his ancient one-eyed mare. “Ef I couldn’t spit as fur as from here to the Edge I’d never chaw tobacker agin! Plain old fashioned laziness is what ails Doss Provine. I’d nacher’ly w’ar him out for this trick, Bonbright, ef I was you.”