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Updated: May 31, 2025
She used her whip at short range on his face, but had not arm-room in which to land a blow. They were stirrup-deep in water, and as they struggled the horses edged in deeper still. Finding that she could not beat Drazk off Zen clutched her saddle and drove the spurs into her horse. At this unaccustomed treatment he plunged wildly forward, but Drazk's grip on her was too strong to be broken.
As for Drazk A quick sense of horror caught her as the memory of his choking face protruded into her consciousness.... "Well, suppose we ride home," he suggested. "By Jove! The fire has worked around us." It was true. The hill on which they stood was now entirely surrounded by a ring of fire, eating slowly up the side.
The hot sun shone through rifts in the canopy of smoke; the blue sky looked down serene and unmoved by this outburst of the elements. Then as Zen brought her eyes back to the water she saw a man on horseback not forty yards ahead. Her first thought was that it must be one of the fire fighters, driven like herself to safety, but a second glance revealed George Drazk.
If only that horrid memory of Drazk would not keep tormenting her! She began to have some glimpse of what remorse must mean. She did not blame herself; she could not have done otherwise; and yet it was horrible to think about, and it would not stay away. She felt a tremendous desire to tell Grant all about it.... She wondered how much he knew.
She let go of the thong, clutched her horse's tail, and was pulled quickly ashore. Sitting on the gravel, she tried to think. Drazk had disappeared; his horse had landed somewhat farther down.... Doubtless Drazk had drowned. Yes, that would be the explanation. Why change it? Zen turned it over in her mind. Why make any explanations? It would be a good thing to forget.
"George Drazk, if you speak to me again I'll horse-whip you out of the camp at noon before all the men. Now, beat it!" "Jus' as you say, Ma'am," he returned, with mock courtesy. "But I could tell a strange story if I would. But you don't need to be scared. That's one thing I never do I never squeal on a friend."
In spite of her annoyance at him she had to smile and return his salute. "Mr. Drazk is irrepressible," she remarked to Transley. "And irresponsible," the contractor returned. "I sometimes wonder why I keep him. In fact, I don't really keep him; he just stays. Every spring he hunts me up and fastens on. Still, I get a lot of good service out of him.
His ruse had proven a blind trail, and there was nothing to do but go down to the stables, take the horse blanket from the peg where he had hung it, and set out again for the South Y.D. As he turned a corner of the fence the sight of a young woman burst upon him. She was hatless and facing the sun. Drazk, for all his admiration of the sex, had little eye for detail.
"You remember that, Y.D. when our friend here upset the haying operations?" "Sure, I remember, but I'm not holdin' it agin him now. A dead horse is a dead horse, an' I don't go sniffin' it." "Perhaps I ought to say, though," Grant returned, "that I really do not know how the iron pegs got into that meadow." "And I don't know how your haystacks got afire, but I can guess. Remember Drazk?
"Now who said he was?" her father retorted. "For a young woman with the price of a herd of steers on her third finger you're sort o' short this mornin'. Now I'm jus' wonderin' how far you can see through a board fence, Zen. Are you surprised that Drazk has disappeared?" She was entirely at a loss to understand the drift of her father's talk.
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