Here and there a darker
spot suggested a break for a mountain peak; rarely a fleck of white
marked a mountain road. Back of them all--ridge, mountain, cavernous
valley--towered old Harney, sun-browned, rock-diademed, a few wisps of
cloud streaming down the wind from his brow, locks heavy with the age
of the great Manitou whom he was supposed to represent. Eastward, the
prairie like a peaceful sea. Above, the alert sky of the west. And
through all the air a humming--vast, murmurous, swelling--as the
mountain breeze touched simultaneously with strong hand the chords, not
of one, but a thousand pine harps.
Bennington drew in a deep breath, and looked about in all directions.
The girl watched him.
"Ah! it is beautiful!" he murmured at last with a half sigh, and looked
again.
She seized his hand eagerly.
"Oh, I'm so glad you said that--and no more than that!" she cried. "I
feel the sun fairy can make you welcome now."
CHAPTER V
THE SPIRIT MOUNTAIN
"From now on," said the girl, shaking out her skirts before sitting
down, "I am going to be a mystery."
"You are already," replied Bennington, for the first time aware that
such was the fact.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68