Before Silvermane had come to a full stop Mescal was
off. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, then she left
Judith to dart to the corral where a little black mustang had begun to
whistle and stamp and try to climb over the bars.
August Naab, bareheaded, with shaggy locks shaking at every step, strode
off the porch and his great hands lifted Hare from the saddle.
"Every day I've watched the river for you," he said. His eyes were warm
and his grasp like a vise.
"Mescal--child!" he continued, as she came running to him. "Safe and
well. He's brought you back. Thank the Lord!" He took her to his breast
and bent his gray head over her.
Then the crowd of big and little Naabs burst from the house and came
under the cottonwoods to offer noisy welcome to Mescal and Hare.
"Jack, you look done up," said Dave Naab solicitously, when the first
greetings had been spoken, and Mother Ruth had led Mescal indoors.
"Silvermane, too--he's wet and winded. He's been running?"
"Yes, a little," replied Hare, as he removed the saddle from the weary
horse.
"Ah! What's this?" questioned August Naab, with his hand on Silvermane's
flank.
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