At last he had his reward. The girl made a movement almost like a shiver. Then she sat up erect. The color came back to her cheeks and she turned to him with eyes in which a ghost of a smile flitted.
“I—I had forgotten,” she said half-apologetically. “This is what has brought prosperity to the camp. This is what has saved them from starvation. We—we should owe it gratitude.”
“I don’t guess the rocks need gratitude,” replied Buck quietly.
“No!”
Joan looked up at the black roof above her and shivered.
“It’s a weird place, where one might well expect weird happenings.”
Buck smiled. He was beginning to obtain some insight into the girl’s mood. So used was he to the gloomy hill that its effect was quite lost on him. Now he knew that some superstitious chord had been struck in the girl’s feelings, and this strange hill had been the medium of its expression.
He suddenly leant forward. Resting on the horn of his saddle he looked into the fair face he so loved. He had seen that haunted look in her face before. He remembered his first meeting with her at the barn. Its termination had troubled him then. It had troubled him since. He remembered the incident when the gold had been presented to her. Again he had witnessed that hunted, terrified look, that strange overpowering of some painful thought—or memory.
Now he felt that she needed support, and strove with all his power to afford it her.