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It was not long after Tharon's visit to the cabin in the glade, that Kenset, riding alone along the twilight land, passed close to the mouth of Black Coulee one day at dusk. He rode loosely, slouching sidewise in his saddle, for he had been to Corvan for his monthly mail and a few supplies tied in a bag behind his saddle, and he carried his broad hat in his hand.
To Billy there was something fateful, bodeful in the dead darkness, the stillness. It seemed to him as if he left forever behind him the open life of the ranges, the gay and careless days of riding after Tharon's cattle. For five years he had lived at Last's, under master and mistress, content, happy. The half-remembered world of below had never called him.
They said she could drive a nail farther than the ordinary man could see. They said she could draw so swiftly that the motion of the hands was lost. A slow excitement took the faction of the settlers. But out at Last's Holding a grave anxiety sat upon Tharon's riders. Conford knew and Billy knew and Curly knew more about Courtrey's intent than some of the others.
Kenset frowned and looked down along the green range. He thought of the unpainted pine building in Corvan which was the Court House. A strange personnel, truly, to invest it with authortity! "I see," he said briefly, "but there must be some way out. This is not the right way, the way that must come and last." Tharon's lips drew into the thin line that made them like her father's.
Swiftly and obediently the girl did as she was told, unrolling the wrapper from the package. She brought to light the meal-sack which Tharon had dropped that day on Baston's porch. A slow flush stained Tharon's cheeks at the sight, and she went abruptly into the house.
And with each blaze, each mark and monument and sign, he drew closer in about him the net of suspicion and disapproval which was weaving in Lost Valley, for there was not one but ran the gamut of close inspection and speculation by Courtrey's men, by the settlers who came many miles over from the western side of the Valley for the purpose, and by Tharon's riders.
Then he went back to his cabin and his interrupted work and set himself to wait in patience for the return of Drake. But in Lost Valley a leaven was rising. It had begun insidiously to work with the appearance of Kenset in Tharon's band at Courtrey's doorstep.
The bottom of his power was not reached. Bolt was doing his best. Once he threw up his head and foam flew on the wind red foam that shot back and whipped on Tharon's hand, a wet pink stain, thinned and faded. At that sight an exultant cry, savage, inhuman, ugly, burst from her throat. She was within long gunshot now was closing her fingers lightly on the blue gun-butts . Courtrey heard that cry.
"Which way did Dad go, Billy?" she asked, "north or south?" "North," said Billy, "he rode th' Cup Rim range today." When the meal, a trifle silent in deference to Tharon's silence, was done, the men rose awkwardly. They stood a moment, looking about, undecided. Conford picked them up with his eyes and nodded out. He felt that just maybe the girl would rather be alone.
From Tharon's saddle Billy had taken the flask of water, the tightly rolled bundle of bread and meat in its meal-sack. They ate sparingly of this, drank more sparingly of the water. Billy wondered miserably how soon this last might become more precious than fine gold to him, as he thought of the waterless pockets of the blind and sliding country.
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