nk the
situation tightened throughout my senses.

"I reckon if every one's ready we'll start." It was the Virginian's
voice once more, and different from the rest. I heard them rise at his
bidding, and I put the blanket over my head. I felt their tread as they
walked out, passing my stall. The straw that was half under me and half
out in the stable was stirred as by something heavy dragged or half
lifted along over it. "Look out, you're hurting Ed's arm," one said to
another, as the steps with tangled sounds passed slowly out. I heard
another among those who followed say, "Poor Ed couldn't swallow his
coffee." Outside they began getting on their horses; and next their
hoofs grew distant, until all was silence round the stable except the
dull, even falling of the rain.

XXXI. THE COTTONWOODS

I do not know how long I stayed there alone. It was the Virginian who
came back, and as he stood at the foot of my blankets his eye, after
meeting mine full for a moment, turned aside. I had never seen him
look as he did now, not even in Pitchstone Canyon when we came upon the
bodies of Hank and his wife. Until this moment we had found no chance of
speaking together, except in the presence of others.

"Seems to be raining still," I began after a little.

"Yes. It's a wet spell."

He stared out of the door, smoothing his mustache.

It was again I that spoke. "What time is it?"

He brooded over his watch. "Twelve minutes to seven."

I rose and stood drawing on my clothes.

"The fire's out," said he; and he assembled some new sticks over the
ashes. Presently he looked round with a cup.

"Never mind that for me," I said

"We've a long ride," he suggested.

"I know. I've crackers in my pocket."

My boots being pulled on, I walked to the door and watched the clouds.
"They seem as if they might lift," I said. And I took out my watch.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"A quarter of--it's run down."

While I wound it he seemed to be consulting his own.

"Well?" I inquired.

"Ten minutes past seven."

As I was setting my watch he slowly said:

"Steve wound his all regular. I had to night-guard him till two." His
speech was like that of one in a trance: so, at least, it sounds in my
memory to-day.

Again I looked at the weather and the rainy immensity of the plain. The
foot-hills eastward where we were going were a soft yellow. Over the
gray-green sage-brush moved shapeless places of light--not yet the
uncove