“The hound went over,” he said, regretfully. “I saw him. He slipped an’ fell, an’ was gone like a flash.”
Brant turned away to hide his distress.
But in Zeke recollection welled. He clutched at the marshal, and drew himself to his feet, where, after an instant, he stood firmly. His eyes went 257 searchingly over the barren surface of the Slide. They dilated. Fright lined his face—then, horror. He stared wildly, his gaze roving over all the mountain-top, once and again—and again. When words came, they were broken, surcharged with the horrid fear that was on him.
“Whar—whar is she—Tiny?”
His look went to the four men in turn, piteously pleading. Each of the three met the look and answered it by a shake of the head. But the veteran could not endure the anguish in the lover’s eyes. His own dropped. He did not shake his head. Zeke strove for courage.
“Whar is she?” he demanded, at length. His voice was more composed now, but his eyes were flaming.
The veteran answered very softly, but without any attempt at evasion.
“I saw her go, Zeke—over the cliff. Thet little dawg o’ your’n had a holt on her skirt. But he hadn’t the heft to keep her from goin’. The dawg did the best he knew how. But ’twa’n’t no use, an’ he went, too. I was too fur off to grab her. I reckon she fainted. She didn’t scream, ner move none to save herself.”
There was a little period of silence. These men were schooled to the concealment of deepest emotions. There was no frantic outburst from the 258 bereaved lover, from the afflicted grandfather. There was not even comment or further questioning. Of what avail? The thing was done. The girl was lost forever, dead. But the other men looked away, lest they see the agony in Zeke’s face.
Abruptly, the young man started walking down the slope. He wore shoes, and they slipped a little on the smooth stone. Straight down toward the brink he strode. The curve of the dome made every step more perilous. It was a natural, an irresistible impulse to look on the precise place where the loved one had perished, but it appeared as if he walked to his death. Indeed, his danger was grave, for he had forgotten the shoes he wore.... Or, perhaps, he did not care! Uncle Dick uttered an oath, and leaped in pursuit. It was only a matter of seconds to overtake the young man, seize him, turn him about and march him back with fierce expostulations that were a welcome vent to emotion.