To one skilled in the polished phrases which city folks hold in readiness for all occasions, the manner in which the two received the news might have appeared heartless. Jake looked off and away over the darkening world. Sliver bit a chew off his plug, then fell to examining a fray in his riata. When the latter finally spoke the aforesaid city person would have been greatly shocked.
“The poor damn kid!”
“Hell, ain’t it?” Jake’s tone was quite indifferent.
But Bull had seen Sliver gulping in an attempt to swallow the choking lump in his throat; also the sudden moisture that quenched the cold, snake sparkle in Jake’s bleak eyes. These were all-sufficient.
“They was heading for Los Arboles by the plains trail.” After a long silence he answered Jake’s question concerning the raiders. “Must be nearly there. My God! Miss Lee an’—”
“They ain’t there.” Sliver hastened to relieve his anxiety. “They’re—” He was relieved from further explanation by a second clatter of hoofs. Out of the gathering dusk came Lee and Gordon.
Ever since they spied the smoke column, its dread possibilities had weighed down the girl’s spirit. But at the sight of Bull she forgot—for the moment. Uttering a glad cry, she dismounted, was running to him, hands outstretched, but suddenly halted, shocked by his look.
“Why—what—” Following his pointing finger, she saw the fire. That, their inaction, told all before he spoke. “Gone!—both!—burned with the house!” Crying bitterly, she turned instinctively, as though to run to Gordon. Then, recognizing a need greater than her own, she faced about again and ran to Bull.
“Oh, you poor, poor man!”
Grasping his big, hard hands, she pressed her wet face against his knee while she sobbed out her sorrow and sympathy. Freeing one hand, Bull gently stroked her hair. Nodding for Sliver and Gordon to follow, Jake led them a few yards back up the trail; so there was none but Bull to hear when she began to sob out a broken confession.