Now, lying alone in the soundless deep of the night, she went over that scene, and the one through which she had just passed. "He's a dear, good fellow, and I love him—but not like that." And the thought that it was all over between them, and the decision irrevocably made, was at once a pain and a pleasure. The promise, slight as it was, had been a burden. "Now I am absolutely free," she said, in swift, exultant rebound.
XIX
THE SHERIFF'S MOB
The next day was cloudless, with a south wind, and the little, crawling brook which watered the agency seemed about to seethe. The lower foot-hills were already sere as autumn, and the ponies came down to their drinking-places unnaturally thirsty; and the cattle, wallowing in the creek-bed, seemed at times to almost stop its flow. The timid trees which Curtis had planted around the school-house and office were plainly suffering for lack of moisture, and the little gardens which the Indians had once more been induced to plant were in sore distress.
The torrid sun beat down into the valley from the unclouded sky so fiercely that the idle young men of the reservation postponed their horse-racing till after sunset. Curtis felt the heat and dust very keenly on his guests' account, and was irritated over the assaults of the cattlemen. "If they had but kept the peace we would still be in the cool, sweet hills," he said to Lawson.
"This will not last," Lawson replied. "We'll get a mountain wind to-night. The girls are wisely keeping within doors and are not yet aware of the extreme heat."
"I hope you are a true prophet. But at this moment it seems as if no cool wind could arise out of this sun-baked land."
"Any news from the Willow?"
"The trouble was in the West Fort. Some cowboys raided a camp of Tetongs. No one was injured, and so it must pass for a joke."