XII
ECHO CLIFFS
WHEN thought came clearly to him he halted irresolute. For Mescal's sake
he must not appear to have had any part in her headlong flight, or any
knowledge of it.
With stealthy footsteps he reached the cottonwoods, stole under the
gloomy shade, and felt his way to a point beyond the twinkling lights.
Then, peering through the gloom until assured he was safe from
observation, and taking the dark side of the house, he gained the hall,
and his room. He threw himself on his bed, and endeavored to compose
himself, to quiet his vibrating nerves, to still the triumphant bell-beat
of his heart. For a while all his being swung to the palpitating
consciousness of joy--Mescal had taken her freedom. She had escaped the
swoop of the hawk.
While Hare lay there, trying to gather his shattered senses, the merry
sound of voices and the music of an accordion hummed from the big
living-room next to his. Presently heavy boots thumped on the floor of
the hall; then a hand rapped on his door.
"Jack, are you there?" called August Naab.
"Yes."
"Come along then."
Hare rose, opened the door and followed August.
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