The Rainbow Trail eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 371 pages of information about The Rainbow Trail.
He was far from being calm or clear-sighted.  He thought he recognized that free step; nevertheless, he could not make sure.  When they passed under the trees, crossed the brook, and turned down along the west wall, then doubt ceased in Shefford’s mind.  He knew this was not Ruth.  Still, so strange was his agitation, so keen his suspense, that he needed confirmation of ear, of eye.  He wanted to hear her voice, to see her face.  Yet just as strangely there was a twist of feeling, a reluctance, a sadness that kept off the moment.

They reached the low, slow-swelling slant of wall and started to ascend.  How impossible not to recognize Fay Larkin now in that swift grace and skill on the steep wall!  Still, though he knew her, he perversely clung to the unreality of the moment.  But when a long braid of dead-gold hair tumbled from under the hood, then his heart leaped.  That identified Fay Larkin.  He had freed her.  He was taking her away.  Then a sadness embittered his joy.

As always before, she distanced him in the ascent to the top.  She went on without looking back.  But Shefford had an irresistible desire to took again and the last time at this valley where he had suffered and loved so much.


From the summit of the wall the plateau waved away in red and yellow ridges, with here and there little valleys green with cedar and pinyon.

Upon one of these ridges, silhouetted against the sky, appeared the stalking figure of the Indian.  He had espied the fugitives.  He disappeared in a niche, and presently came again into view round a corner of cliff.  Here he waited, and soon Shefford and Fay joined him.

“Bi Nai, it is well,” he said.

Shefford eagerly asked for the horses, and Nas Ta Bega silently pointed down the niche, which was evidently an opening into one of the shallow canyon.  Then he led the way, walking swiftly.  It was Shefford, and not Fay, who had difficulty in keeping close to him.  This speed caused Shefford to become more alive to the business, instead of the feeling, of the flight.  The Indian entered a crack between low cliffs—­a very narrow canyon full of rocks and clumps of cedars—­and in a half-hour or less he came to where the mustangs were halted among some cedars.  Three of the mustangs, including Nack-yal, were saddled; one bore a small pack, and the remaining two had blankets strapped on their backs.

“Fay, can you ride in that long skirt?” asked Shefford.  How strange it seemed that his first words to her were practical when all his impassioned thought had been only mute!  But the instant he spoke he experienced a relief, a relaxation.

“I’ll take it off,” replied Fay, just as practically.  And in a twinkling she slipped out of both waist and skirt.  She had worn them over the short white-flannel dress with which Shefford had grown familiar.

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The Rainbow Trail from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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