Even as the coach rolled over the first mile of the journey, and grew pigmy in the distance so that the loitering dust cloud concealed it—even as it bumped across the outskirts of the camp—the crimson sun cast savage glances across the valley, slashing the iron roofs to life, livening the dingy walls of humpies and tents, and wooing the first flies from sleep. Over all the camp breakfast fires were growing, and men and women moved in and out of doors on the primal matters of the morning.
December, following the teachings of November, began to spend its days, holding them out one by one and tossing them into the mouth of Time. Each day proved a little longer and a little hotter to the people of that courageous camp. But though the season drew presently towards the height of the summer, Power found the days too short for the journey to Surprise.
While Maud lived her life at Surprise and gave events into the keeping of Time, Power still rode to Pelican Pool, but his passion was near its end. As his brain cooled, as his malady abated, he comprehended his position with tragic clearness, and saw the high price of what he had thrown away. His wealth was spent on other wares, and he could not hope to buy it again. So be it. He had chosen a bed of thistles because the flower had seemed soft and gracious, and he would lie on it without complaint. And still he rode day by day to the river.
December grew middle-aged, and every sunset painted once more the swelling cloud wrack in the South, until the evening arrived when Mr. Horrington borrowed from the staff messhouse the single boot-last of Surprise, borrowed from the engine driver a piece of leather belting, borrowed from elsewhere a hammer and cobbler's nails, and sat down to re-sole his boots against grievous days.
CHAPTER XX The Farewell by the Hut
There dawned at last a day hotter and longer than any the summer yet had sent. With break of morning banks of sullen clouds were rolling out of the South into an empty sky. The sun sulked overhead, showing a fitful fiery face, and the air rose steaming from the ground. Little winds came out of the South, blew brief nervous breaths, and like silly spendthrifts wore themselves to death. Before evening was come, the men and women of Surprise had stood again and again in their doorways to eye the sky, to snuff the air, and to declare the rains must break before morning.
In the teeth of these warnings, when afternoon wore out to evening, and dark came down to shroud the stifled day, when in the high sky not one star could find a porthole to look through, Power rode down to Pelican Pool. Kaloona, as well as Surprise, had read the signs of the heavens, and Power judged the storm would burst before dawn. Dark had fallen half-an-hour when he guided his horse among the trees by the river.
He drew rein on the edge of the clearing in the timber, and from his seat in the saddle looked across the open. Through the doorway of the hut, in a long bright beam, the light came to divide the dark. Molly sat upon a box in the doorway against a background of light. Black she seemed, and around her was a radiance of light, and outside the light waited the steaming dark. She sat in a reverie, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, and when the sounds of the horse reached her, she gave no sign other than calling out, "Is that you, Jim?"