“What’s the matter, Billy, dear?” asked Tharon anxiously, but Billy laughed lightly, a thin sound in the mighty caverns.
“Nothing in God’s world, Tharon,” he lied. “Now go to sleep.”
And he walked away to the tall mouth and sat down with his back against one of the walls. From his pocket he took papers and tobacco and proceeded to roll himself a cigarette.... Dawn showed the narrow doorway strewn with their butts, as leaves strew mountain trails in autumn.
Things were ready to happen in Lost Valley––several things. 253
At the Golden Cloud, Lola looked across the level stretches toward the Stronghold with tragic dark eyes, and smiled at a dozen men whom she scarcely saw. Settlers from all up and down the Wall drifted into Corvan and out again, intent, silent, watchful. Vaqueros and riders from the Stronghold also came and went, as intent, as silent. They passed each other with hostile eyes and trigger fingers were unusually limber. The air was pregnant with change.
Buck Courtrey was conspicuous by his absence.
He was not seen in the town, neither was he at the Stronghold.
There were soft whispers afloat that he was with the Pomos up under the Rockface at the north.
And at the Stronghold, poor Ellen, whiter than ever, more like a broken lily drooping on its stem, trembled and waited for a day that was set soon––too terribly soon!––the day, farcically appointed, for the suit for divorce against her.