Now that the danger had passed, Larkin felt a certain miserable nausea in the pit of his stomach, and fought it down with all his might. Caldwell was not so successful, however, and stumbled from the shelter and his companions, furiously sick. Juliet began to weep softly, the tears of nervous reaction coming freely when neither pain nor fear could have brought them.
Bud passed his arm gently about her shoulders, and patted her with soft encouragement and praise for her bravery. Nor did the girl resent his action. Rather it seemed to steady her, and after a few minutes she looked up with an unsteady laugh.
“Isn’t it funny for that other man to get seasick out here where we can’t get enough water to drink?” she asked, with a sudden tangent of humor that made Bud laugh uproariously, and seemed to relieve the strain that oppressed them.
“Brave little girl!” he said, getting up. “That reminds me. I wonder where our friend is?”
He walked out in the direction Caldwell had taken and expected to find the other recovering from his attack. But he could see or hear nothing 113 to indicate that the man was within a dozen miles. He called, and his voice sounded puny and hollow against the vastness of the sky. He heard no hails in answer, except the long, shrill one which the coyotes gave from a neighboring rise of ground.
Smithy Caldwell had disappeared.
Larkin returned to Juliet Bissell perplexed, mystified, and disturbed. What possible reason could there be for the quixotic actions of the man he hated more than any other in the world? How did he happen to be received and at perfect ease among a band of desperate rustlers?
How and why? Caldwell presented so many variations on those two themes that Larkin’s head fairly swam, and he turned gladly to relieve the situation in which Juliet Bissell now found herself.