But
living, hating him as she must, his dreams of her were a sacrilege and
his love for her like the cut of a sword. In the end he was like a man
who had triumphed over a malady that would always leave its marks upon
him. In the beginning of the third week he knew that he had conquered,
just as he had triumphed in a similar way over death and despair in the
north. He would go into the mountains, as he had planned. He would
build his cabin. And if the Law came to get him, it was possible that
again he would fight.
On the second day of this third week he saw advancing toward him a
solitary horseman. The stranger was possibly a mile away when he
discovered him, and he was coming straight down the flat of the valley.
That he was not accompanied by a pack-horse surprised Keith, for he was
bound out of the mountains and not in. Then it occurred to him that he
might be a prospector whose supplies were exhausted, and that he was
easing his journey by using his pack as a mount. Whoever and whatever
he was, Keith was not in any humor to meet him, and without attempting
to conceal himself he swung away from the river, as if to climb the
slope of the mountain on his right. No sooner had he clearly signified
the new direction he was taking, than the stranger deliberately altered
his course in a way to cut him off.
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