"I know, Allan, but--"
"There's no other way! Our work is just begun!"
She nodded silently, then said in a low tone: "Yours the labor; mine the waiting, the watching, and the fear!"
"The fear? Since when have you grown timid?"
"Only for you, Allan! Only for you! Suppose, some time, you should not come back!"
He laughed.
"We thrashed that all out the first time. It's old straw, Beta. My end of the task is getting these people here. Yours is waiting, watching--and being strong!"
Her hand tightened on his, and for a little while they sat quite still and without speech, watching the day draw to its close.
Far below, New Hope River chattered its incessant gossip to the vexing boulders. Above, in the sky, lazy June clouds, wool-white, drifted to westward, as though seeking the glory that there promised to transmute them into gold and crimson.
A pleasant wind swayed the forest, wherein the scarlet birds flitted like flashes of flame. The beauty of the outlook thrilled their hearts, leaving no room for words.
But suddenly Allan's eyes narrowed, and with a singular hardening of expression, a tightening of the jaw, he peered away at the dim, haze-shrouded line of far horizon to northeastward.
He cast a sidelong glance at Beatrice. She had noticed nothing.
One moment he made as though to speak, then repressed the words, and once more gazed at the horizon.
There, so vague as almost to leave a doubt in mind, yet, after all, only too terribly real, his keen sight had detected something which caused his heart to throb the quicker and his eye to gleam with hate.
For, at the very rim of the world, dim, pale, ominous, three tiny threads of smoke were hanging in the evening air.