Again that day he felt her foot in his palm, and the touch went over him
in thrills. She was tired, he knew; her foot pressed heavier than it had
before. He would have liked to take her in his arms and lift her bodily
into the saddle, but he hardly dared think of such a blissful
proceeding.
He set the pace slower, however, and avoided the steepest places, and he
halted often on the higher ground, to scan sharply the coulees. And so
they searched, these two, together, and grew to know each other better
than in a month of casual meetings. And the grass nodded, and the winds
laughed, and the stern hills looked on, quizzically silent. If they knew
aught of a small boy with a wealth of yellow curls and white collar,
they gave no sign, and the two rode on, always seeking hopefully.
A snake buzzed sharply on a gravelly slope, and Keith, sending Beatrice
back a safe distance, took down his rope and gave battle, beating the
sinister, gray-spotted coil with the loop until it straightened and was
still. He dismounted then, and pinched off the rattles--nine, there
were, and a "button"--and gave them to Beatrice, who handled them
gingerly, and begged Keith to carry them for her. He slipped them into
his pocket, and they went on, saying little.
Back near the ranch they met Dick and Sir Redmond. They exchanged sharp
looks, and Dick shook his head.
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