“Good,” said Fair, “we’ll be all ready.”
CHAPTER X
THE SEVENTH SENSE
They were as good as their word, and when Nance rode up the narrow defile on the day and hour appointed, they were waiting, fresh and neat as abundant water and their worn garments would permit.
Sonny wore denim overalls a shade less ragged and a little shirt with sleeves. His face shone like the rising sun from behind Fair’s shoulder as they sat decorously mounted on Diamond.
“The out-riders wait the Princess,” said Fair, “good morning, Miss Allison.”
“Did you bring cookies?” queried the boy eagerly, “we’ve got the fish!”
“Good morning,” answered Nance, “sure I did, Sonny. And other things, too. We’ll be good and hungry by noon time.”
The sun was two hours high outside, but here between the towering walls the shadows were still blue and cold. The murmur of the stream seemed louder than usual, heard thus in the stillness of the early day. The mystery of the great cut was accentuated, its charm intensified a thousandfold to Nance. There was a strange excitement in everything, a sense of holiday and impending joy. Her face broke into smiles as helplessly as running water dimples, and when the two riding ahead turned from time to time to look back she was fair as “a garden of the Lord,” her bronze head shining bare in the blue light, her eyes as wide and clear as Sonny’s own.
This was adventure to Nance—the first she had ever known, and its heady wine was stirring in her veins.
She did not know why the tumbling stream sang a different song, or why the glow of light creeping down from the rimrock along the western wall seemed more golden than before.