Here was the place where she had got angry with
Hale, had slid from his horse and stormed with tears. What a
little fool she had been when Hale had meant only to be kind! He
was never anything but kind--Jack was--dear, dear Jack! That
wouldn't happen NO more, she thought, and straightway she
corrected that thought.
"It won't happen ANY more," she said aloud.
"Whut'd you say, June?"
The old man lifted his bushy beard from his chest and turned his
head.
"Nothin', dad," she said, and old Judd, himself in a deep study,
dropped back into it again. How often she had said that to
herself--that it would happen no more--she had stopped saying it
to Hale, because he laughed and forgave her, and seemed to love
her mood, whether she cried from joy or anger--and yet she kept on
doing both just the same.
Several times Devil Judd stopped to let his horse rest, and each
time, of course, the wooded slopes of the mountains stretched
downward in longer sweeps of summer green, and across the widening
valley the tops of the mountains beyond dropped nearer to the
straight level of her eyes, while beyond them vaster blue bulks
became visible and ran on and on, as they always seemed, to the
farthest limits of the world.
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