"Old friend," said Thorne, "it's a sacrifice. Are you going to stay and
help me?"
California John for a long time studied a crack in the floor. When he
looked up his face was illuminated with his customary quizzical grin.
"I've sure got it on Ross Fletcher," he drawled. "I done _told_ him I
wasn't no supervisor, and he swore I was."
PART FOUR
I
When next Bob was able to visit the Upper Camp, he found Thorne fully
established. He rode in from the direction of Rock Creek, and so through
the pasture and by the back way. In the tiny potato and garden patch
behind the house he came upon a woman wielding a hoe.
Her back was toward him, and a pink sunbonnet, freshly starched,
concealed all her face. The long, straight lines of her gown fell about
a vigorous and supple figure that swayed with every stroke of the hoe.
Bob stopped and watched her. There was something refreshing in the
eagerness with which she attacked the weeds, as though it were less a
drudgery than a live interest which it was well to meet joyously. After
a moment she walked a few steps to another row of tiny beans.
Pages:
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474