She watched him silhouetted against the blood-red globe of the sun as it

sank lower and lower. She could see every outline of his slouch-hat and

muscular shoulders as he turned now and then and saw her standing still

alone at her cabin door. Why he was going he could not tell; but he went,

and he frowned as he rode away, with the wicked gleam still in his eye;

for he meant to return.

At last he disappeared; and the girl, turning, looked up, and there rode

the white ghost of the moon overhead. She was alone.




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