"Come, Miss Neville, it's not many visitors ride our way. We've not much to offer, but its our best when you comes. The show has gone down into a hundred foot of rock, and storekeepers aren't too flash with tick just now. But there's always our best for Miss Neville."
There seemed a press about the horse, but Maud was firm in purpose and mounted. She hated the greedy face of the man. She liked no better the lovely features of the girl. She was in a rage with herself for considering the undertaking. The man and the woman in the doorway of the hut were exchanging glances at her back.
"Good-bye," she said, as she drew together the reins. "You mustn't think me rude, but I have to get along."
She would have walked over the man had he not stepped out of the way.
CHAPTER XVIII The Bottom of the Valley
When the same afternoon had worn to evening, Power rode down to the river. His comings and goings at the hut passed unremarked. Gregory kept always ready his loud welcome, and his wife asked no questions and made no difficulties.
Power arrived every evening at sunset, and spent by the Pool the first hours of dark. For this end he endured the remainder of the day. He walked now on the very bottom of the valley into which he had descended. He rode no more to Surprise, and, calamity on calamity, he was losing Mick O'Neill, his friend. Gloom bestrode a third horse when they rode together on the work of the run, until by one accord they sought each other out as little as need be; and in mute agreement came to visit here, the one when the other should be gone.
The sun had gone down on the edge of the plain when Power reached the Pool. As he entered the trees darkness was falling, and the stars were coming out. When the horse brought him into the clearing the lamplight looked from the doorway of the hut in a broad beam and voices met him from indoors. He tethered the beast in an old place and put the saddle on end at the foot of a tree. Before he had done Moll Gregory was standing in the doorway of the hut.