“It’s a pity.” Suddenly Buck pointed ahead at a great mass of towering rock above the trees. “There’s Devil’s Hill!” he exclaimed.
Joan looked up, all eager delight to behold this wonderful hill Buck had brought her out to see. She expected something unusual, for already she had listened to several accounts of this place and the gold “strike” she was supposed to have brought about. Nor was she disappointed now, at least at first. She stared with wondering eyes at the weird, black giant raising its ugly head in a frowning threat above them, and gave a gasp of surprise.
Then in a moment her surprise died out, and into her eyes crept a strange look of repulsion and even fear. She had no words to offer. She made no move. It was almost as if she sat fascinated like some harmless bird held by the hypnotic stare of a python. So long did she remain silent that Buck at last turned and looked into her face. And something like alarm caught and held him when he beheld her gray look of horror as she faced the gloomy crags mounting up before them.
He too looked out ahead. But his imagination failed him, and his eyes came back to her. The change in her happy, smiling eyes was incredible. Her smile had gone utterly—the bright color of her cheeks. There was no awe in her look, neither curiosity nor admiration. To him it almost seemed that her whole body was thrilled with an utter repugnance and loathing at what she beheld.
“It’s—ugly,” he hazarded at last.
“It’s—it’s dreadful.” The girl’s reply came in a tone there was no mistaking. It was one of concentrated detestation.
“You don’t—like it?” Buck felt helpless.
But Joan’s next words left him without any doubt.
“I—I think I—hate it,” she said harshly.
Buck drew rein on the instant.