Then she stood upon her feet,
and admired the length of the chain as she held it dangling.
Then she dropped the chain, gave a little cry like the note of a
frightened bird, and scampered away--never looking back.
Never looking back. But she had seen him. He tried to hope that she
had not seen him.
He was hungry now. His provisions were exhausted; he had eaten nothing
since last night, and he felt excited and fretful. He said to
himself: "If to-day my enemy is not delivered into my hands, I must go
out into the open and seek him at all risks, at all costs." It was a
dominant idea now. Nothing else mattered.
But that day the man came. When the day was almost over, when the
whole wood was fading to the neutral tints of dusk, he came. He was on
horseback, sitting easily and proudly, and his chestnut horse paced
daintily and noiselessly over the moss.
Dale took off his hat. Then presently he came out of the bracken into
the ride, gripped the horse by its bridle, and spoke to the rider.
"Halloa! Dale? But, my good fellow, what the deuce--Damn you, let go.
What are you trying to--"
"I'll show you. Yes, you"--and violent, obscene, incoherent words came
pouring from Dale in a high-pitched querulous voice.
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