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The guard was so near that it would not be a fair risk to try to make a dash across the moonlit open for the aspen grove. He was so far that before the prisoner could reach him his gun would be in action. There was nothing to do but wait. Jim huddled against the sustaining wall while with the passing minutes his chance of escape dipped away.
Randal, with his back to the open door, was filling the port glasses, while Amaryllis and her father were gazing from the open french-window across the moonlit lawn, when all three were startled by a thin, high-pitched voice behind them. "Me lib for make one dam fine lot coffee, missy," it said. But, turning, they laughed to see only Dick, setting down the tray.
Her chance came half an hour later, when she stood talking to the landlady on the hotel porch in the mellow twilight that seemed to rest on the land like a moonlit aura. For the moment they were alone. "What is it about this man Bannister that makes men afraid to speak of him?" she demanded, with swift impulse. Her landlady's startled eyes went alertly round to see that they were alone.
Foot by foot he struggled up the slope, hoping each moment to break through this blanket of vapor into the clear air. He knew from many previous experiences that the open sky existed a little way above, that this was but a roof. At last he parted the layer of mist and burst into the moonlit heights above. He drew a deep breath of awe as he turned and looked about him.
This moment of passage from wonder to wonder was quite too much for a boy unused to introspection, and he stood staring stupidly at Calais, while the thunder of his new life came rolling in on that passionate moonlit dream. After the emotions of those last three days Pierson woke with the feeling a ship must have when it makes landfall.
Besides, he would inevitably be disappointed, unless his first glimpse of the Holy City was from the summit of Nebi Samwil or, coming out of the Jordan Valley on a moonlit night, he saw the shimmering radiance of the Mosque of Omar at the top of Mount Moriah. But the Rest Camp at Enab was strictly limited both in size and scope.
He was wandering up and down moonlit streets, kissing cooks. She would like to lecture him now, not in her nightgown, of course, but properly dressed, severely and from a height. Yet if he was kissing other girls he certainly would not care whether she lecture him or not. He would laugh at her. Very good. She would go back to her studio and prepare pictures that went, etc., etc.
They ceased to be beings of flesh and blood to one another and themselves; they passed into a bodily texture of tenderness and desire. They gave it first whispers and then silence, and drew close and looked into one another's moonlit and shadowy faces under the infinite arch of the sky. And the still black pine-trees stood about them like sentinels.
Presently the narrow, moonlit lane was crossed at its far end by black moving objects. Two horses Duane discerned. "It's Bland!" whispered the woman, grasping Duane with shaking hands. "You must run! No, he'd see you. That 'd be worse. It's Bland! I know his horse's trot." "But you said he wouldn't mind my calling here," protested Duane. "Euchre's with me. It'll be all right."
The old song of the Borderers was ringing in his ears: 'Sweet is the sound o' the driven steers And sweet the gleam o' the moonlit spears, When the red cock crows o'er byre and store And the Borderer rides on his foraying splore. He looked from the tail of his eye upon 'Meg wi' the muckle mouth. No beauty certainly, but 'twas fighting he craved, not women.
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