“I’ll manage that all right.”
Reluctant to go, yet feeling that she ought to make haste, the girl got out some crackers and placed them, with a pail of water, within his reach. Then she listened while Stratton told her of a short cut out to the middle pasture.
“I understand,” she nodded. “You’ll promise to be careful, won’t you? Bud ought to be here in a couple of hours, though he may be delayed a little longer. You’d better not try and move until he comes.”
“I won’t,” Buck answered. “I’m too darn comfortable.”
“Well, good-by, then,” she said briefly, moving over to her horse.
“Good-by; and—thank you a thousand times!”
She made no answer, but a faint, enigmatic smile quivered for an instant on her lips as she turned the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle. When Freckles had reached a little distance, she glanced back and waved her hand. From where he lay Stratton could see almost the whole length of the little cañon, 229 and as long as the slight figure on the big gray horse remained in sight, his eyes followed her intently, a sort of wistful hunger in their depths. But when she disappeared, the man’s head fell back limply on the blankets and his eyes closed.