“I believe you do,” she said with a sob, “better than I do.”
“Well, it's all right, little girl. Come on.”
They issued forth into the sunlight and Hale walked rapidly. The strain was getting too much for him and he was anxious to be alone. Without a word more they passed the old school-house, the massive new one, and went on, in silence, down the street. Hitched to a post, near the hotel, were two gaunt horses with drooping heads, and on one of them was a side-saddle. Sitting on the steps of the hotel, with a pipe in his mouth, was the mighty figure of Devil Judd Tolliver. He saw them coming--at least he saw Hale coming, and that far away Hale saw his bushy eyebrows lift in wonder at June. A moment later he rose to his great height without a word.
“Dad,” said June in a trembling voice, “don't you know me?” The old man stared at her silently and a doubtful smile played about his bearded lips.
She knew that the world to which Hale belonged would expect her to kiss him, and she made a movement as though she would, but the habit of a lifetime is not broken so easily. She held out her hand, and with the other patted him on the arm as she looked up into his face.
“Time to be goin', June, if we want to get home afore dark!”
In a few minutes they were ready, and the girl looked long into Hale's face when he took her hand.
“Just as soon as I can.” Her lips trembled.
From the steps he watched them--the giant father slouching in his saddle and the trim figure of the now sadly misplaced girl, erect on the awkward-pacing mountain beast--as incongruous, the two, as a fairy on some prehistoric monster. A horseman was coming up the street behind him and a voice called:
“Who's that?” Hale turned--it was the Honourable Samuel Budd, coming home from Court.
“June Taliaferro,” corrected the Hon. Sam with emphasis.
“The same.” The Hon. Sam silently followed the pair for a moment through his big goggles.
“What do you think of my theory of the latent possibilities of the mountaineer--now?”
“I think I know how true it is better than you do,” said Hale calmly, and with a grunt the Hon. Sam rode on. Hale watched them as they rode across the plateau--watched them until the Gap swallowed them up and his heart ached for June. Then he went to his room and there, stretched out on his bed and with his hands clenched behind his head, he lay staring upward.