Sudden as had been the start, no less sudden was the finish of
the battle. The bronco pounded to a stiff-legged standstill,
trembled for a long minute like an aspen, and sank to a tame
surrender, despite the sharp spurs roweling its bloody sides.
"Ah, my beauty. You've had enough, have you?" demanded the cruel,
triumphant voice of the rider. "You would try that game, would
you? I'll teach you."
"Stop spurring that horse, you bully."
The man stopped, in sheer amazement at this apparition which had
leaped out of the ground almost at his feet. His wary glance
circled the hills to make sure she was alone.
"Ce'tainly, ma'am. We're sure delighted to meet up with you.
Ain't we, Two-step?"
For himself, he spoke the simple truth. He lived in his
sensations, spurring himself to fresh ones as he had but just now
been spurring his horse to sate the greed of conquest in him. And
this high-spirited, gallant creature--he could feel her vital
courage in the very ring of her voice--offered a rare fillip to
his jaded appetite. The dusky, long-lashed eyes which always give
a woman an effect of beauty, the splendid fling of head, and the
piquant, finely cut features, with their unconscious tale of
Brahmin caste, the long lines of the supple body, willowy and yet
plump as a partridge--they went to his head like strong wine.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151