out of the Pass before there was any chance of riders coming
down. They gained the break as the first red rays of the rising
sun colored the rim.
For once, so eager was he to get up to level ground, he did not
send Ring or Whitie in advance. Encouraging Bess to hurry pulling
at his patient, plodding burro, he climbed the soft, steep
trail.
Brighter and brighter grew the light. He mounted the last broken
edge of rim to have the sun-fired,
purple sage-slope burst upon
him as a glory. Bess panted up to his side, tugging on the halter
of her burro.
"We're up!" he cried,
joyously. "There's not a dot on the sage
We're safe. We'll not be seen! Oh, Bess--"
Ring growled and sniffed the keen air and bristled. Venters
clutched at his rifle. Whitie sometimes made a mistake, but Ring
never. The dull thud of hoofs almost deprived Venters of power to
turn and see from where
disaster threatened. He felt his eyes
dilate as he stared at Lassiter leading Black Star and Night out
of the sage, with Jane Withersteen, in rider's
costume, close
beside them.
For an
instant Venters felt himself whirl dizzily in the center
of vast
circles of sage. He recovered
partially, enough to see
Lassiter
standing with a glad smile and Jane riveted in
astonishment.
"Why, Bern!" she exclaimed. "How good it is to see you! We're
riding away, you see. The storm burst--and I'm a ruined
woman!...I thought you were alone."
Venters,
unable to speak for
consternation, and bewildered out of
all sense of what he ought or ought not to do, simply stared at
Jane.
"Son, where are you bound for?" asked Lassiter.
"Not safe--where I was. I'm--we're going out of Utah--back East,"
he found tongue to say.
"I
reckon this meetin's the luckiest thing that ever happened to
you an' to me--an' to Jane--an' to Bess," said Lassiter, coolly.
"Bess!" cried Jane, with a sudden leap of blood to her pale
cheek.
It was entirely beyond Venters to see any luck in that
meeting.
Jane Withersteen took one flashing, woman's glance at Bess's
scarlet face, at her
slender, shapely form.
"Venters! is this a girl--a woman?" she questioned, in a voice
that stung.
"Yes."
"Did you have her in that wonderful
valley?"
"Yes, but Jane--"
"All the time you were gone?"
"Yes, but I couldn't tell--"
"Was it for her you asked me to give you supplies? Was it for her
that you wanted to make your
valley a
paradise?"
"Oh--Jane--"
"Answer me."
"Yes."
"Oh, you liar!" And with these
passionate" target="_blank" title="a.易动情的;易怒的">
passionate words Jane Withersteen
succumbed to fury. For the second time in her life she fell into
the ungovernable rage that had been her father's
weakness. And it
was worse than his, for she was a
jealous woman--
jealous even of
her friends. As best he could, he bore the brunt of her anger. It
was not only his
deceit to her that she visited upon him, but her
betrayal by religion, by life itself.
Her
passion, like fire at white heat, consumed itself in little
time. Her
physical strength failed, and still her spirit
attempted to go on in
magnificent denunciation of those who had
wronged her. Like a tree cut deep into its roots, she began to
quiver and shake, and her anger weakened into
despair. And her
ringing voice sank into a broken, husky
whisper. Then, spent and
pitiable, upheld by Lassiter's arm, she turned and hid her face
in Black Star's mane.
Numb as Venters was when at length Jane Withersteen lifted her
head and looked at him, he yet suffered a pang.
"Jane, the girl is innocent!" he cried.
"Can you expect me to believe that?" she asked, with weary,
bitter eyes.
"I'm not that kind of a liar. And you know it. If I lied--if I
kept silent when honor should have made me speak, it was to spare