“The waves looked soft as carded wool;
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side,
Like the horns of an angry—cow.”
“Now, that settled me; that settled Emmie; for shame, Longfellow!” concluded James, laughing as he brought to his mind’s eye the tragedy of that day at school. When the three were able to resume their meal after the merriment caused by his narrative, Bess remarked:
“And that fatal Hesperus wrecked all his faith in women. I have scarcely even found him looking at one, if he could avoid it. Poor, brokenhearted brother,” she mocked, teasingly.
A few days later one of West’s cowboys took a splendid Hereford bull across the hills to old Savaeau, with instructions for him to “stick his iron on the animal.”
[CHAPTER XI]
THE MIRACLE OF WOMANHOOD
Dave Davis, the Indian agent, had sent word that he wished to be removed to his quarters at Arlee as soon now as possible. Today, the day after Bess’ return from her interesting visit to St. Ignatius Mission, he was expecting one of his policemen to come for him. His foot was far from strong, but he had managed since Sunday to hobble about with one crutch and a cane. The past two days had been tedious and long, and he had sorely missed the cheery presence of the girl. How he should miss her singing and her reading! He secretly wished he had further excuse to remain near her; yet, on the other hand, it was distasteful to him to be brought in contact with West. Thus far they had seen little of each other. Today at luncheon would be their first meal together. Each dreaded the meeting, yet Davis could not excuse himself, and if Henry West was at home, he was too much of a gentleman to allow a guest to note any displeasure.
Davis slowly and painfully found his way downstairs and into the living-room, in quest of Mrs. West, to apprise her of his expectant departure some time during the day, and to offer, if he might, some pecuniary settlement for all the comforts and attentions which he had received during his enforced stay at the HW Ranch.
No one seemed to be about, but presently he heard, coming from another part of the house, Bess’ melodious voice. Wafted to him came the words, “And sometimes in the twilight gloom apart—” He passed through the dining-room and paused before the half-open door of the kitchen. “The tall trees whisper, whisper heart to heart,” continued the girl, all unconscious of the alert ear at the door-casing.