It was not exactly like a draught of Nepenthe to go out and face the righteous indignation of Judge Ware, but Hardy’s brain was in such a whirl that he welcomed the chance to escape. Never for a moment had he contemplated the idea of Kitty’s coming to him, or of his seeing her again until his heart was whole. He had felt safe and secure forever within the walled valley of Hidden Water––but now from a cloudless sky the lightning had fallen and blinded him. Before he could raise a hand or even turn and flee she had come upon him and exacted his forgiveness. Nay, more––she had won back his love and enslaved him as before. Could it mean––what else could it mean? Nothing but that she loved him; or if not love, then she cared for him above the others. And Kitty was proud, too! Those who became her slaves must respect her whims; she would acknowledge no fault and brook no opposition; whatever she did was right. Yes, it had always been the same with her: the Queen could do no wrong––yet now she had put aside her regal prerogatives and come to him!
He hugged the thought to his bosom like a man infatuated, and then a chill misgiving came upon him. Perhaps after all it was but another of those childish whims which made her seem so lovable––always eager, always active, always striving for the forbidden 205 and unusual, yet so dear with her laughing eyes and dancing feet that all the world gave way before her. He bowed his head in thought, following the judge’s tracks mechanically as he cantered down the trail, and when he came to the hill above the whirlpool and looked down at the empty landscape he was still wrestling with his pride. Never in the two years of his exile had he so much as mentioned her name to any one; it was a thing too sacred for confidences, this love which had changed the deep current of his life, a secret for his own soul and God––and yet, Lucy Ware might help him!
And where in all the world would he find a more faithful friend than Lucy Ware? A secret shared with her would be as safe as if still locked in his own breast––and Lucy could understand. Perhaps she understood already; perhaps––his heart stopped, and pounded against his side––perhaps Kitty had told Lucy her story already and asked her to intercede! He dwelt upon the thought again as he gazed dumbly about for his employer; and then suddenly the outer world––the plain, rough, rocks-and-cactus world that he had lived in before they came––flashed up before him in all its uncompromising clearness; the judge was nowhere in sight!
A sudden memory of Creede’s saying that he could lose his boss any time within half a mile of camp 206 startled Hardy out of his dreams and he rode swiftly forward upon the trail. At the foot of the hill the tracks of Judge Ware’s broad shoes with their nice new hob-nails stood out like a bas-relief, pointing up the river. Not to take any chances, Hardy followed them slavishly through the fine sand until they turned abruptly up onto a ridge which broke off at the edge of the river bottom. Along the summit of this they showed again, plainly, heading north; then as the ravine swung to the west they scrambled across it and began to zigzag, working off to the east where Black Butte loomed up above the maze of brushy ridges like a guiding sentinel. At first Hardy only smiled at the circuitous and aimless trail which he was following, expecting to encounter the judge at every turn; but as the tracks led steadily on he suddenly put spurs to his horse and plunged recklessly up and down the sides of the brushy hogbacks in a desperate pursuit, for the sun was sinking low. The trail grew fresher and fresher now; dark spots where drops of sweat had fallen showed in the dry sand of the washes; and at last, half an hour before sundown, Hardy caught sight of his wandering employer, zealously ascending a particularly rocky butte.
“Hello there, Judge!” he called, and then, as Judge 207 Ware whirled about, he inquired, with well-feigned surprise: “Where’d you drop down from?”
This was to let the old gentleman down easy––lost people having a way of waxing indignant at their rescuers––and the judge was not slow to take advantage of it.
“Why, howdy do, Rufus!” he exclaimed, sinking down upon a rock. “I was just taking a little short cut to camp. My, my, but this is a rough country. Out looking for cattle?”
“Well––yes,” responded Hardy. “I was taking a little ride. But say, it’s about my supper time. You better give up that short-cut idea and come along home with me.”
“We-ell,” said the judge, reluctantly descending the butte, “I guess I will. How far is it?”
“About two miles, by trail.”