"Something happens, same as it did yesterday," he went on. "Oh, it's big--it sure is!" he added. And he turned again to his contemplation of the hills.
But Joan promptly recalled his wandering attention.
"You mean--the storm?" she demanded.
Buck nodded.
"That--an' the other."
"What--other?"
"The washout," he said.
Then, as he saw the look of perplexity in the wide violet eyes, he went on to explain-"You ain't heard? Why, there was a washout on Devil's Hill, where for nigh a year they bin lookin' for gold. Y' see they knew the gold was there, but couldn't jest locate it. For months an' months they ain't seen a sign o' color. They bin right down to 'hard pan.' They wer' jest starvin' their lives clear out. But they'd sank the'r pile in that hill, an' couldn't bring 'emselves to quit. Then along comes the storm, an' right wher' they're working it washes a great lump o' the hill down. Hundreds o' thousands o' tons of rock an' stuff it would have needed a train load of dynamite to shift."
"Yes, yes." Joan's eagerness brought her a step nearer to him. "And they found----"
"Gold!" Buck laughed. "Lumps of it."
"Gold--in lumps!" The girl's eyes widened with an excitement which the discovery of the precious metal ever inspires.
The man watched her thoughtfully.
"Why aren't you there?" Joan demanded suddenly.
"Can't jest say." Buck shrugged. "Maybe it's because they bin lookin' fer gold, an'--wal, I haven't."
"Gold--in lumps!" Again came the girl's amazed exclamation, and Buck smiled at her enthusiasm.
"Sure. An' they kind o' blame you for it. They sort o' fancy you brought 'em their luck. Y' see it came when you got around their hut. They say ther' wasn't no luck to the place till you brought it. An' now----"
Joan's eyes shone.
"Oh, I'm so glad. I'm so glad I've brought them----"
But her expression of joy was never completed. She broke off with a sharp ejaculation, and the color died out of her cheeks, leaving her so ghastly pale that the man thought she was about to faint. She staggered back and leant for support against the wall of the barn, and Buck sprang to her side. In a moment, however, she stood up and imperiously waved him aside.
There was no mistaking the movement. Her whole manner seemed to have frozen up. The frank girlishness had died as completely as though it had never been, and the man stood abashed, and at a loss for understanding.
Now he saw before him a woman still beautiful, but a woman whose eyes had lost every vestige of that happy light. Despair was written in every feature, despair and utter hopelessness. Her mouth, that beautiful mouth so rich and delicate, was now tight shut as of one in great suffering, and deep, hard lines had suddenly gathered about the corners of it. The change smote him to the heart, but left him utterly helpless.