The Lighted Match - Page 2/142

When they had mounted and he had reined his bay down to the side of her

roan, he sat studying her through half-closed, satisfied eyes though he

already knew her as the Moslem priest knows the Koran. While they rode

in silence he conned the inventory. Slim uprightness like the strength

of a young poplar; eyes that played the whole color-gamut between violet

and slate-gray, as does the Mediterranean under sun and cloud-bank; lips

that in repose hinted at melancholy and that broke into magic with a

smile. Then there was the suggestion of a thought-furrow between the

brows and a chin delicately chiseled, but resolute and fascinatingly

uptilted.

It was a face that triumphed over mere prettiness with hints of

challenging qualities; with individuality, with possibilities of

purpose, with glints of merry humor and unspoken sadness; with

deep-sleeping potentiality for passion; with a hundred charming

whimsicalities.

The eyes were just now fixed on the burning beauty of the sunset and the

thought-furrow was delicately accentuated. She drew a long, deep breath

and, letting the reins drop, stretched out both arms toward the splendor

of the sky-line.

"It is so beautiful--so beautiful!" she cried, with the rapture of a

child, "and it all spells Freedom. I should like to be the freest thing

that has life under heaven. What is the freest thing in the world?"

She turned her face on him with the question, and her eyes widened after

a way they had until they seemed to be searching far out in the fields

of untalked-of things, and seeing there something that clouded them with

disquietude.

"I should like to be a man," she went on, "a man and a hobo." The

furrow vanished and the eyes suddenly went dancing. "That is what I

should like to be--a hobo with a tomato-can and a fire beside the

railroad-track."

The man said nothing, and she looked up to encounter a steady gaze from

eyes somewhat puzzled.

His pupils held a note of pained seriousness, and her voice became

responsively vibrant as she leaned forward with answering gravity in her

own.

"What is it?" she questioned. "You are troubled."

He looked away beyond her to the pine-topped hills, which seemed to be

marching with lances and ragged pennants, against the orange field of

the sky. Then his glance came again to her face.

"They call me the Shadow," he said slowly. "You know whose shadow that

means. These weeks have made us comrades, and I am jealous because you

are the sum of two girls, and I know only one of them. I am jealous of

the other girl at home in Europe. I am jealous that I don't know why

you, who are seemingly subject only to your own fancy, should crave the

freedom of the hobo by the railroad track."

She bent forward to adjust a twisted martingale, and for a moment her

face was averted. In her hidden eyes at that moment, there was deep

suffering, but when she straightened up she was smiling.