Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 27, 2025
A thin dark line, no wider than a blade of grass and about as long, spraying out to nothing at the upper end, leaned along the rock like a native marking. No other eye had seen it. Not one in a thousand would have seen it. "Good," said Kenset, "you're the man for more of this." They crowded around and examined the telltale spray. Not one among them but knew it for the stain of blood.
"Buck!" it pealed across the stillness of the crowded room, "Buck! it ain't so! Never in this world, Buck! I ben true to you as your shadow! Before God, it ain't true!" There was a stir throughout the crowd, a breath that was audible. There were many of the Vigilantes there a goodly number, all wondering where Tharon Last was, where Kenset was, where were the riders from Last's.
A bullet, singing out of Black Coulee, had carried away part of the pommel. Kenset shut his lips in a new line, gathered up his rein and drew the horse down to a walk with an iron hand. Slowly, without a backward glance, he rode on across the darkening levels. He was no fool. He knew he had had his warning. Very well. He would give back his acceptance of that warning.
At the sound of his horse's hoofs on the stone-flagged yard Kenset saw her start, half rise, fling a startled look at him and then sink back, as if even the advent of a stranger was of slight import in the heavy current of her dull life. He came in close, drew up, and, with his hat in his hand, sat smiling down at her. To Kenset it was more natural to smile than not to.
The oath, rolling roundly over her full red lips, was as unconscious as the long breath that lifted her breast at the memory of that outrage. "We replaced her with a well an' it's a corker. Mebby better than th' old Crystal, though she was a lovely thing. As clear as as ice that's frozen hard without a ripple of white. You know that kind?" "Yes," said Kenset gravely.
But if strife and ferment seethed under the calm surface in Lost Valley, its surges died before they reached the rolling slopes where the forests came down to the eastern plains. Up among the pines and oaks, the ridges and the age-worn, tumbled rocks David Kenset had found his ideal spot, his glade where the pines stood guard and a talking stream ran down.
And seeing that at last he had caught her interest, Kenset talked quietly for an hour and told her more than he had vouchsafed any other in Lost Valley about his work. Gradually, however, he fell to talking to amuse her, for he saw the emptiness behind the big blue eyes, the aching void which there was nothing to fill, neither love nor hope.
As she ran across the street to where the Finger Marks were tied, she came face to face with Kenset on Captain. Her face was red from brow to throat, her voice thick with rage. "You talked o' law, Mr. Kenset," she cried at the brown horse's shoulder, her eyes upraised to his, "an' see what law there is in Lost Valley! Step Service has buried th' snow-packer without a by-your-leave from nobody!
Then he could bear her face no more, and turned to look at Kenset. Half off the edge of his blanket the forest man lay with his face buried in his hands, and beside him lay another gun, the smoke still curling from its muzzle. "By God!" said the rider, softly, "what's this?" and he ran forward to pick up the weapon. "Three of us!" he said aloud, "pepperin' him at once!
"A sort of picture," replied Kenset quickly, "a picture woven in cloth. But first, if you'll be so kind, I want you to break bread with me. You said we would not be friends. I'm not so sure of that. There is nothing like a man's bread and salt for the refutation of logic." He slipped off the desk with a lithe rippling of his body, but Tharon was first on her feet.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking