There was a long silence, broken by her: “You are dying for sleep. Why do you deny it? You may lie down on my bed if you wish.”
He protested, thanking her, but said he would be glad to sleep in the hay if she permitted; and he rose, steadying himself by the back of his chair.
“I always sleep bridle in hand,” he said. “A barn floor is luxury for my horse and me.”
That would not do. The horse must remain. She must have that horse!
“I will watch your horse,” she said. “Please lie down there. I really wish it.”
“Why, ma’am, I should never venture——”
She looked at him; her heart laughed with content. Here was an easy way for stern necessity.
“Sleep soundly,” she said, with a gay smile; and before he could interpose, she had slipped out and shut the door behind her.
The evening was calm; the last traces of color were fading from the zenith. Pacing the circle of the cabin clearing, she counted the videttes—one in the western pasture, one sitting his saddle in the forest road to the east, and a horseman to the south, scarcely visible in the gathering twilight. She passed the barnyard, head lifted pensively, carefully counting the horses tethered there. Twelve! Then there was no guard for the northern cattle path—the trail over which she and they had come!
Now walking slowly back to the cabin, she dropped her slippers and mounted the steps on bare feet, quietly opening the door. At first in the dim light she could see nothing, then her keen ear caught the quiet sound of his breathing, and she stole over to the bed. He lay there asleep.