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Updated: June 10, 2025
The gray ashes in Venters's hand had once been bone of a human being like himself. The pale gloom of the cave had shadowed people long ago. He saw that Bess had received the same shock could not in moments such as this escape her feeling living, thinking destiny. "Bern, people have lived here," she said, with wide, thoughtful eyes. "Yes," he replied. "How long ago?" "A thousand years and more."
These events, to Venters's color of mind, had a dark relationship. Remembering Jane's accusation of bitterness, he tried hard to put aside his rancor in judging Tull. But it was bitter knowledge that made him see the truth.
He ran up the glade and on into the narrow lane between the walls. This favored Venters's speedy capture of the horse, so, coiling his noose ready to throw, he hurried on. Wrangle let Venters get to within a hundred feet and then he broke. But as he plunged by, rapidly getting into his stride, Venters made a perfect throw with the rope.
"I wanted to roll it meant to but I can't. Venters's valley is down behind here. We could live there. But if I roll the stone we're shut in for always. I don't dare. I'm thinkin' of you!" "Lassiter! Roll the stone!" she cried. He arose, tottering, but with set face, and again he placed the bloody hand on the Balancing Rock. Jane Withersteen gazed from him down the passageway. Tull was climbing.
But she's dead to you dead to the life you made her lead dead as you will be in one second!" Swift as lightning Venters's glance dropped from Oldring's rolling eyes to his hands. One of them, the right, swept out, then toward his gun and Venters shot him through the heart. Slowly Oldring sank to his knees, and the hand, dragging at the gun, fell away.
There was a spring inside, and food stored, and the men brought me fresh meat. Once I was there one whole winter." It now required deliberation on Venters's part to persist in his unconcern and to keep at work. He wanted to look at her, to volley questions at her. "As long as you can remember you've lived in Deception Pass?" he went on.
But his first knowledge had come when he lifted a white face quivering in a convulsion of agony; he had heard God's name whispered by blood-stained lips; through her solemn and awful eyes he had caught a glimpse of her soul. And just now had come the entreaty to him, "Don't take me back there!" Once for all Venters's quick mind formed a permanent conception of this poor girl.
Thereupon, in the same dead calm, Venters backed Black Star away from the curb, into the street, and out of range. He was ready now to ride up to Withersteen House and turn the racers over to Jane. "Hello, Venters!" a familiar voice cried, hoarsely, and he saw a man running toward him. It was the rider Judkins who came up and gripped Venters's hand.
Through sage and grass he hurried to the grove of silver spruces. He laid the girl down, almost fearing to look at her. Though marble pale and cold, she was living. Venters then appreciated the tax that long carry had been to his strength. He sat down to rest. Whitie sniffed at the pale girl and whined and crept to Venters's feet. Ring lapped the water in the runway of the spring.
It was Venters's wondering, thrilling cry that bridged the fateful connection between the rider's singular position and the dreaded name. Tull put out a groping hand. The life of his eyes dulled to the gloom with which men of his fear saw the approach of death.
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