By and by the squirrel moved a little. One forefoot crept slowly down the bark of the oak—and then the other—the one hind foot—and then its mate…. And the squirrel was nearer to the snake.
Again they waited, the stranger and the naked girl…. The squirrel crept yet further down the trunk, toward the slow-shifting venomous head….
The horse snorted…. The squirrel raised its head; and darted up the tree trunk. It was gone. And the snake slid noiselessly off into the underbrush…. The naked girl turned dark, deep eyes upon the stranger. She seemed not to mind her nakedness. And to him it seemed not strange that she should not. The horror of it all was deep within him. He murmured, beneath his breath:
"Good God!"
Then he spoke to her, a muttered word, a meaningless word. She swung her body over, sinuously, so that she faced him, slender legs half stretched. The dead black hair rippled over budding breasts. She did not answer. She merely looked at him.
The stranger sat there. His eyes blinked a little; he brushed his hand across them, weakly. Then he looked at her again.
Came a sudden rustling in the brush, beside him. His horse leaped forward, almost unseating him…. He had gone far down the trail before he reined it in. Then he crossed himself. His eyes showed that he was frightened.
There was a turning in the path, a turning that led to the main road. The stranger swung his horse into this turning. He knew that it added to the length of his journey by a good league and a half. And yet he took that turning.
And, later, as he turned into the travelled road, he breathed a deep, deep sigh; and again he crossed himself.
[Illustration]