He touched a raw groove, and the stallion flinched. "Hare, a
bullet made that!"
"Yes."
"Then you didn't ride in by the Navajo crossing?"
"No. I came by Silver Cup."
"Silver Cup? How on earth did you get down there?"
"We climbed out of the canyon up over Coconina, and so made the spring."
Naab whistled in surprise and he flashed another keen glance over Hare
and his horse. "Your story can wait. I know about what it is--after you
reached Silver Cup. Come in, come in, Dave will look out for the
stallion."
But Hare would allow no one else to attend to Silvermane. He rubbed the
tired gray, gave him a drink at the trough, led him to the corral, and
took leave of him with a caress like Mescal's. Then he went to his room
and bathed himself and changed his clothes, afterward presenting himself
at the supper-table to eat like one famished. Mescal and he ate alone,
as they had been too late for the regular hour. The women-folk waited
upon them as if they could not do enough. There were pleasant words and
smiles; but in spite of them something sombre attended the meal. There
was a shadow in each face, each step was slow, each voice subdued.
Pages:
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331