May rose.
“I must go back,” she said. “We are on our way to visit friends. We get off at Missoula. Is there any message I can take back to—to any one, when I go home in the spring.”
Robin shook his head.
“Remember me to the hills when you go ridin’,” he muttered. “That’s all.”
The girl’s eyes clouded.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and held out her hand. “Good-by, Robin Tyler—and good luck to you.”
Robin turned his face to the frosted window. There was a blur in his eyes as well as on the pane. A lump in his throat grew and swelled till it seemed as if it would choke him.
CHAPTER XV
ECHOES FROM AFAR
Sitting on a pierhead jutting from the Seattle water front one Sunday afternoon in April Robin surrendered himself to a mood that he had been choking down all winter.
Materially he had done well enough. He had sought sanctuary in this seaport city and found what he sought. He had walked the streets with an assurance that he was lost in the swarming ant heap. So far as Montana, the Block S, those far wide ranges went, he had ceased to be. And since he had not come there seeking glory and fortune by the white-collar route he had soon found work that he could do and for which he was well paid.