Instead, however, she was a little shocked to see him riding down Troublesome, with Isabel on a nag beside him.
She did not feel at all hurt or angry—in her eyes Fult was perfect; what he did must be all right. Gulping down a few tears, she hugged and kissed little Madison, took off her finery and his, and went to work doing some extra cooking for dinner.
Fult and Isabel were riding down to Aunt Ailsie's to hear the devil's ditties, Uncle Lot having gone to a funeral meeting fourteen miles away. It was the first time they had been alone together since the day Fult had brought Isabel in behind him. Meanwhile, she had heard fully about the "war" and Fult's part in it, had seen him play in the same game with his archenemy, Darcy Kent, had watched both impassive faces with fascinated eyes, and had developed a consuming curiosity to know just how feudists feel on the inside.
They had ridden only a short distance past the village when Isabel said, suddenly: "Why didn't you tell me that day you brought me in that you were one of the leaders of the 'war'?"
Fult started, flushed slightly, and replied: "I allowed you'd hear hit soon enough anyhow."
"But you knew how excited I was to hear from Uncle Adam that there was a feud right here on Troublesome. Of course, I had heard and read of them all my life,—my father had always taken a special interest in them—but to walk right into one as I did seemed too wonderful for words."
"But you walked into perfect peace," smiled Fult.
"Oh, yes, I know—the truce," said Isabel. "But that's just a temporary thing, isn't it? Just for the summer?"
"Yes."
"And then?"