XV. WILD JUSTICE
A crescent moon hung above the lofty peak over the valley and a train of white stars ran along the bold rim of the western wall. A few young frogs peeped plaintively. The night was cool, yet had a touch of balmy spring, and a sweeter fragrance, as if the cedars and pinyons had freshened in the warm sun of that day.
Shefford and Fay were walking in the aisles of moonlight and the patches of shade, and Nas Ta Bega, more than ever a shadow of his white brother, followed them silently.
“Fay, it's growing late. Feel the dew?” said Shefford. “Come, I must take you back.”
“But the time's so short. I have said nothing that I wanted to say,” she replied.
“Say it quickly, then, as we go.”
“After all, it's only—will you take me away soon?”
“Yes, very soon. The Indian and I have talked. But we've made no plan yet. There are only three ways to get out of this country. By Stonebridge, by Kayenta and Durango, and by Red Lake. We must choose one. All are dangerous. We must lose time finding Surprise Valley. I hoped the Indian could find it. Then we'd bring Lassiter and Jane here and hide them near till dark, then take you and go. That would give us a night's start. But you must help us to Surprise Valley.”
“I can go right to it, blindfolded, or in the dark.... Oh, John, hurry! I dread the wait. He might come again.”