She shook the bridle, and swept from him at a gallop, and the thaw-softened sod was whirling in clods behind them when Larry drew level with her. He knew it was not prudent, but the fever in his blood mastered his reason, and he sent the stockrider’s cry ringing across the levels as they sped on through the night. The damp wind screamed by them, lashing their hot cheeks, the beat of hoofs swelled into a roar as they swept through a shadowy bluff, and driving cloud and rift of indigo flitted past above. Beneath, the long, frost-bleached levels, gleaming silvery grey now under the moon, flitted back to the drumming hoofs, while willow clump and straggling birches rose up, and rushed by, blurred and shadowy.
They were young, and the cares that must be faced again on the morrow had, for a brief space, fallen from them. They had bent to the strain to the breaking point, and now it had gone, everything was forgotten but the love each bore the other. All senses were merged in it, and while the exaltation lasted there was no room for thought or fear. It was, however, the man who remembered first, for a few dark patches caught his eye when they went at a headlong gallop down the slope.
“Pull him!” he cried hoarsely. “’Ware badger holes! Swing to the right-wide!”
The girl swerved, but she still held on with loose bridle, until Larry, swaying in his saddle, clutched at it. Then, as he swung upright, half a length ahead, with empty hands, she flung herself a trifle backwards and there was a brief struggle; but it was at a trot they climbed the opposite slope.
“Now,” she said, with a happy little laugh, “we are sensible once more; but, while I knew it couldn’t last, I wanted to gallop on for ever. Larry, I wonder if we will ever feel just the same again? There are enjoyments that can’t come to anyone more than once.”
“There are others one can have all the time, and we’ll think of them to-night,” said the man. “There are bright days before us, and we can wait until they come.”
Hetty smiled, almost sadly. “Of course!” she said, “but no bright day can be quite the same as this moonlight to me. It shone down on us when I rode out into the night and darkness without knowing where I was going, and only that you were beside me. You will stay there always now.”
They held on across the empty waste while the hours of darkness slipped by, and the sun was rising red above the great levels’ rim when the roofs of a wooden town rose in front of them. As the frame houses slowly grew into form, Hetty painfully straightened herself. Her face was white and weary and it was by a strenuous effort she held herself upright, the big horse limped a little, and the mire was spattered thick upon her; but she met the man’s eyes, and, though her lips trembled, smiled bravely.
Larry saw and understood, and his face grew grave. “I have a good deal to make up to you, Hetty, and I will try to do it faithfully,” he said. “Still, we will look forward with hope and courage now—it is our wedding day.”
Hetty glanced away from him across the prairie, and the man fancied he saw her fingers tremble on the bridle.