"
"Then good-night." She gave his folded arm a hasty pat and ran on down
the hill after Fay, who had gone on. Bennington saw her seize his
shoulders, as she overtook him, and give them a severe shake.
The light of the torches down the gulch wavered and disappeared.
Bennington returned to his room. On the table lay his manuscript, and
the ink was hardly dried on the last word of it. Outside a poor-will
began to utter its weird call. The candle before him sputtered, and
burned again with a clear flame.
[Footnote A: Western--to become frightened.]
CHAPTER IX
THE HEAVENS OPENED
Bennington awoke early the next morning, a pleased glow of anticipation
warming his heart, and almost before his eyes were opened he had raised
himself to leap out of the bunk. Then with a disappointed sigh he sank
back. On the roof fell the heavy patter of raindrops.
After a time he arose and pulled aside the curtains of a window. The
nearer world was dripping; the farther world was hidden or obscured by
long veils of rain, driven in ragged clouds before a west wind.
Yesterday the leaves had waved lightly, the undergrowth of shrubs had
uplifted in feathery airiness of texture, the ground beneath had been
crisp and aromatic with pine needles.
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