Over the excitement had fallen a subtle shade, 144 however, a hush, with the sight of Bolt so close behind El Rey. If it had not been for that grave thing she would have felt like a wound-up spring, intent with energy, filled with action. She was always so when El Rey ran beneath her. And this stranger spoke of rest! Tharon Last could ride all day without a thought of rest.
“Sure,” she said, “I’ll help you if I can. But what’s this thing?”
“A sort of picture,” replied Kenset quickly, “a picture woven in cloth. But first, if you’ll be so kind, I want you to break bread with me. You said we would not be friends. I’m not so sure of that. There is nothing like a man’s bread and salt for the refutation of logic.”
He slipped off the desk with a lithe rippling of his body, but Tharon was first on her feet.
“You mean stay to supper?” she asked decisively. “No, I can’t do that. I took back a meal from you. That stan’s between.”
“Why, you funny girl,” said Kenset, “nothing stands between. And I don’t mean supper, exactly, either. Please sit down.”
Tharon stood, considering. She turned the matter over in her mind.
She had taken this man’s house by storm. It had, indeed, given her refuge. If it had not been for the glade in the pines, she wondered where 145 she would be now––driven deep into Black Coulee, she made no doubt, a prisoner to Courtrey.
“All right,” she said abruptly, “I’ll stay. But you must be quick. Th’ time is goin’ fast.”
Kenset went swiftly across the cabin to that part which served as kitchen, and took from a curtain-covered set of shelves, a shiny nickel object on spindly legs, which he brought and placed near Tharon on the table.